“There is another one,” Jeannie went on, running her hands gently over the keys. “Yes, that is right. It’s a duet, Stella d’Amore. The young man is walking by the sea, and sees a girl. He does not speak to her, but he sings to himself, as he passes, ‘There is a star by the sea,’ and when he has finished his verse, she sings, like him, ‘There is a star by the sea, but who am I that the star should hear me?’ And then they both sing, ‘Star of love by the sea.’”
Clara flushed.
“How romantic!” she said. “And did they marry?”
“It doesn’t say,” said Jeannie. “You must write an extra verse, Miss Clara, saying that they did.”
Jeannie got up from the piano and began putting on her gloves.
“I must go,” she said; “but whenever you feel up to it, Miss Clifford, send me a note, and we’ll have another go at the mandolin. I won’t forget to let you have the book. Now mind you do all that Dr. Maitland tells you. Good-bye.”
Clara came to show Jeannie out, and stopped her in the hall.
“Oh, Miss Avesham,” she said, “is Phœbe better? Is it not what Dr. Maitland thought?”
Jeannie shook her head.
“Better?” she said. “Has he not told you?”