“I thought it would perhaps--amuse Lady Caroline.” Lottie did not know what she had done that was wrong. The Signor wore an air of trouble too. Only Mr. Ashford’s face, looking at her, as one followed another into the light, reassured her. She turned to him with a little anxiety. “I cannot play; it is quite true; perhaps I ought not to have touched the piano,” she said. “You were startled,” said the Minor Canon, kindly. “Your voice fluttered like those candles in the draught.” The others still looked terribly serious, and did not speak. “And I sang false,” said Lottie; “I heard myself. It was terrible; but I thought I was stiffening into stone,” she said, in an undertone, and she gave an alarmed look at Lady Caroline on the sofa. This restored the spirits of the others spectators, who looked at each other relieved. “Thank Heaven, she knew it,” Rollo whispered to the Signor; “it was fright, pure fright--and my aunt----” “What else did you suppose it was?” answered in the same tone, but with some scorn, the Signor. “Miss Despard, don’t think you are to be permitted to accompany yourself,” said Rollo. “Here are two of us waiting your pleasure. Signor, I will not pretend to interfere when you are there. May we have again that song you were so good----?” “Ah, pardon me,” he cried coming close to her to get the music. “I do not want to lose a minute. I have been on thorns this half-hour. I ought to have been here waiting ready to receive you, as you ought to be received.” “Oh, it did not matter,” said Lottie, confused. “I am sorry I cannot play. I wanted--to try--to amuse Lady Caroline.”