"I am so glad to know you, Miss Gordon. I have heard of you in New York, although rumor did not credit you with half the charms I find you in actual possession of," she twittered, sweetly. "Will you come to the piano and play for us? I am so fond of music?" "I do not play," Laurel answered, feeling the warm color flood her cheeks under the lady's astonished gaze. "Not play! Why, surely--" began Mrs. Merivale, but to Laurel's intense relief dinner was announced, and she was spared the expression of the lady's surprise at her ignorance. Yet she looked at the pearl keys longingly as she swept past the grand piano on the count's arm. She had a great passionate love for the divine art of music, and a great grief filled her soul at the thought that her hands had no power to wake the soul of harmony slumbering in those silent keys. "Poor papa! I wish that he had taught me more of music and less of languages," she thought, regretfully. Yet, when at dinner they talked in the French language out of compliment to the polite count, she was glad that she could hold her own among them. She felt rather than saw, St. Leon's surprise, and Mrs. Merivale's dismay. "So she can speak French like a native, although she cannot play--curious!" said the latter to herself, with a feeling of vexation, for she had started the ball of French conversation with a distinct view to Miss Gordon's discomfiture. Laurel had never seen Mr. Le Roy so brilliant as he was this evening. It seemed that he had never exerted himself for her. He was affable, courteous, fascinating to his visitors, especially so to the lady. He had softly spoken words for her winning smiles that Laurel had never dreamed could curve those sternly set lips. A pang of bitterness pierced the sensitive heart of the lovely young impostor. "He has never thought Beatrix Gordon worthy of his kind words and smiles," she thought. He did not think so now it seemed. He did not speak to her, seldom looked at her. His words and looks were lavished on the fair, smiling widow who gave herself up to the flirtation with eager, absorbing interest. The count paid great attention to Laurel, and she tried to look interested in his conversation, but she was glad when the dinner was ended and the ladies passed from the room, leaving the gentlemen to finish their wine. Mrs. Merivale went to the low window and looked out upon the moonlit balcony. "How lovely it is!" she cried. "Will you come out, Mrs. Le Roy?--you and Miss Gordon?" "Beatrix may go--I am afraid of the night air," Mrs. Le Roy responded, settling herself in an easy-chair. "Will you come, Miss Gordon?" asked the fair widow. "It is too lovely a night to remain indoors," she added, sentimentally. Laurel went out to her, and Mrs. Merivale drew her ringed hand lovingly through the girl's arm.