There was a dead silence. Barton looked daggers, and was in truth somewhat fearful that more of Miriam's past life than he liked was on the verge of discovery. Major Dundas raised his eyebrows, and Gerald, to conceal his surprise, hastily turned away. With a faint smile Miriam took the music, and looked coldly at Mrs. Darrow. "I never sang a song in public in my life," she said, "and most certainly I have nothing to do with the Frivolity Music Hall." "But the name is yours, and, I think, the handwriting too. How do you explain that?" "The handwriting, as you say, is mine. But the name is not. If you must know, the song belonged to my brother, Michael Crane. He was very fond of the Frivolity Music Hall. He heard the song there, and bought it to sing himself. He was quite absurd in his liking for that class of thing, and really sang songs of the kind remarkably well--so much so that I often used to say he would end by becoming a music-hall singer. I happened to write his name upon this song, and I added 'The Frivolity Music Hall' simply by way of a joke. I little thought when I did so that it would be the means of placing me in my present position. I can only say that it is one I don't appreciate in the least." Thus did Mrs. Darrow's bombshell burst with but little real result--so little that the lady could but with difficulty conceal her disappointment. She was ready to discredit Miriam's explanation altogether, but Barton, delighted at her discomfiture, put an end to that. "I knew Michael Crane very well myself," he said. "Indeed, I have often heard him sing his comic songs, though I cannot say I have heard this particular one. So I think you owe Miss Crane a very deep apology, Julia, for the most unpleasant way you chose of putting things." Miriam gave the Squire a glance full of gratitude. "Oh, not at all," she said. "It was a very natural mistake to make--I mean about the name. As for the other thing, that hardly matters, does it?--after all, whatever I have done in the past can concern no one but myself. Now that it is settled that I am still a respectable member of society, if you really wish to hear me, I will sing." And without taking any notice of the effect of her words, Miriam turned to the key-board and commenced the prelude of the song she had chosen. As her noble voice rolled through the room, Hilda and Mrs. Darrow exchanged glances of extreme significance. Their little plot had failed. They had been ignominiously beaten, and they knew it. Mrs. Darrow rapidly surveyed the position in her own mind, and decided to make the best of a very bad job. So when Miriam had finished her song she approached her. "I am afraid I was very wrong, Miss Crane," she tittered. "But you must admit it was a wholly excusable mistake." "I have already said so, Mrs. Darrow," replied Miriam coldly, "very excusable. Please think no more about it."