"If you find it too cold, Miss Grey, perhaps you would do wisely, I think, to sit a little further from the window," said Mr. Marston, considerately. "I am not at all afraid for myself," she answered a little pointedly, "but I am uneasy about Miss Ware. I do think, Ethel, you would do wisely to get a little further from that window." "But I do assure you I am quite comfortable," I said, in perfect good faith. I saw Mr. Marston glance for a moment with a malicious smile at Laura Grey. To me the significance of that smile was a little puzzling. "I see you have got a piano there," he said to me, in his low tones, not meant for her ear. "Miss Grey plays, of course?" "Yes; very well indeed." "Well, then, would you mind asking her to play something?" I had no idea at the time that he wanted simply to find occupation for her, and to fill her ears with her own music, while he talked on with me. "Laura, will you play that pretty thing of Beethoven's that you tried last night?" I asked. "Don't ask me, Ethel, dear, to-night; I don't think I could," she answered, I thought a little oddly. "Perhaps, if Miss Grey knew," he said, smiling, "that she would oblige a shipwrecked stranger extremely, and bind him to do her any service she pleases to impose in return, she might be induced to comply." "The more you expect from my playing, the less courage I have to play," she said, in reply to his appeal, which was made, I fancied, in a tone of faint irony that seemed to suggest an oblique meaning; and her answer, I also fancied, was spoken as if answering that hidden meaning. It was very quietly done, but I felt the singularity of those tones. "And why so? Do, I entreat--do play." "Shouldn't I interrupt your conversation?" she answered. "I'll not allow you even that excuse," he said; "I'll promise (and won't you, Miss Ware?) to talk whenever we feel inclined. There, now, it's all settled, isn't it? Pray begin." "No, I am not going to play to-night," she said. "Who would suppose Miss Grey so resolute; so little a friend to harmony? Well, I suppose we can do nothing; we can't prevail; we can only regret." I looked curiously at Laura, who had risen, and was approaching the window, close to which she took a chair and sat down. Mr. Marston was silent. I never saw man look angrier, although he smiled. To his white teeth and vivid eyes his dark skin gave marked effect; and to me, who knew nothing of the situation, the whole affair was most disagreeably perplexing. I was curious to see whether there would be any sign of recognition; but I was sitting at the side that commanded a full view of our guest, and the table so near me that Laura could not have introduced her chair without a very pointed disclosure of her purpose. If Mr. Marston was disposed to snarl and snap at Miss Grey, he very quickly subdued that desire. It would have made a scene, and frightened me, and that would never do.