"I remember that you used to sing very well, Mr. Templeton. Won't you favor us now?" "Lora, my dear," Mrs. Carroll said, in a gently-shocked voice, "you forget that music may not be agreeable to your sister so recently bereaved." "Oh, Xenie, dear, I beg your pardon," began Lora, turning around, but Mrs. St. John interrupted her by saying, wearily: "Never mind, mamma, never mind, Lora. I--I--my head aches--I will retire if you will excuse me, and then you may have all the music you wish." She arose from her seat, gave Mr. Templeton a chill, little bow which he returned as coldly, then went slowly from the room, trailing her sable robes behind her like a pall. "As cold as ice, by Jove," was Howard's mental comment; "yet she did not appear particularly elated over her prospective triumph. Strange!" He crossed over to the piano where Lora was restlessly turning over some sheets of music. "Won't you sing to me, Miss Carroll?" he asked, in a soft, alluring voice. Lora sat down on the music-stool and laughed as she ran her white fingers over the pearl keys. "Excuse me--I do not sing," she said, carelessly. "But I will play your accompaniment if you will select a song." "You do not sing," he said, as he began to turn over the music. "Ah! there is one point at least in which you do not resemble your sister. Mrs. St. John has a very fine voice." "Yes. Xenie's voice has been well trained," she answered, carelessly; "but I do not care to sing, I would rather hear others." "How will this please you?" he inquired, selecting a song and laying it up before her. She glanced at it and answered composedly: "As well as any. I remember this song. I heard you sing it with Xenie that summer." "Yes, our voices went well together," he answered, as carelessly. "I wish you would sing it with me now?" "I cannot, but I will play it for you. Shall we begin now?" He was silent a moment, looking down at her as she sat there with down-drooped eyes, the gleam of the firelight and gaslight shining on the black braids of her hair and the rich, warm-hued dress that was so very becoming to her dark, bright beauty. Suddenly he saw something on the white hand that was softly touching the piano keys. He took the slim fingers in his before she was aware. "Let me see your ring," he said. "It looks familiar. Ah, it is the one I gave you that winter when we----" She threw back her head and looked at him with wide, angry, black eyes. "What do you mean?" she said imperiously. "Are you crazy, Mr. Templeton? It is the ring you gave Xenie, certainly, but not me!" "Lora, love," said her mother's voice from the sofa, in mild reproval. "Do not be rude to Mr. Templeton." "Mamma, I don't mean to," said Lora, without turning her head; "but he--he spoke as if I were Xenie."