"Often and often," she responded, with frank gravity. "You see I had the beautiful books to recall you to my mind every day. Then one day when I was looking through the book you read in the orchard, I found----" "What?" he asked, as she paused with a pleased smile on her scarlet lips. "I found on one page a pressed four-leaved clover. I remembered that Violet had given you one that day, and I was so pleased," she said. "Pleased--why?" asked Ronald Valchester. "That you had given it to me," she answered. "You are not superstitious enough to believe that the four-leaved clover brings good luck?" he said, looking at her with a smile in his twilight-colored eyes. "Oh, no," she answered, with frank innocence; "I was pleased because I thought it seemed a silent message from you to me to say that you wish me well." CHAPTER XI. Ronald Valchester was a fine musician, and had a beautiful voice. No one would sing or play after him usually. The contrast was too great. Perhaps it was for that very reason that Violet asked Jaquelina to play directly after Valchester had vacated the piano-stool after singing an exquisite air from a favorite opera. For a moment Jaquelina seemed tempted to refuse. The warm color rose into her cheek as they all looked at her, her scarlet lips trembled, but Violet said quickly: "You must not refuse, Lina. We have all played now but you, and it would not be fair for you to decline." "Allow me," said Walter Earle, gently leading her to the piano. Was it any wonder if a faint thrill of pleasure and triumph swelled the girl's heart as her white hands fluttered lovingly over the pearl keys? She remembered last year. How ashamed she had felt that she could not play; how the young girls had looked at her pityingly and, she vaguely fancied, disdainfully, because she knew so little. They did not know how hard she had practiced since. Everyone was surprised that she should try after Ronald Valchester. He himself looked at her a little uneasily. Everyone expected a failure. Walter Earle opened the portfolio of music and held it open before her, but she shook her head. "No, I will play something from memory," she said. "Now I know she will make a failure," Violet said to herself, "for my music-teacher always told me never to play without my notes before me." But Violet made no allowance for genius, which acknowledges no law, and is sufficient unto itself. Jaquelina touched a key or two softly so that the sound seemed to be the answer to a caress, then her hands began to fly across the keys like white-winged birds. People looked at each other. The magic power of genius was in those slender fingers-- "Sweeping the swift and silver chords." In a moment she began to sing. She had chosen the pretty, familiar ballad of Annie Laurie. Not one in the room but knew that only a powerful and well-trained voice could do justice to the melodious but difficult strain.