The song is familiar enough to most persons now, but Juliet had not heard it before, and she was thrilled by the beauty of the words and the music. Still more was she thrilled when Algernon at its conclusion suddenly lifted his dark eyes to hers, and looked at her with a glance that seemed charged with unutterable meanings. Juliet trembled under the magnetism of that glance. She rose and looked about for her gloves, feeling a sudden desire to get away. But the tea had not yet appeared, and till now she had been unconscious how time was passing.
"You must not think of going yet," said Algernon, in his low, deep voice, as he came to her side. "Won't you sing something to me now? I am sure that you sing."
"Yes, indeed; she sings beautifully," exclaimed Flossie; "her voice is as clear as a bird's. Do sing, Juliet."
"Oh, I cannot! I never sing, except sometimes with mother some of the old songs that she used to sing when she was a girl."
"Won't you let me hear one of them?" said Algernon persuasively. "I love those good old songs."
"Oh no, indeed! I cannot sing, really," protested Juliet.
"Oh, but you must, you shall!" exclaimed Flossie. "I won't let you off, Juliet."
But her brother gravely interposed.
"Stay, Flossie. Miss Tracy shall not be urged to sing if the idea is really disagreeable to her. Of course it would have given me great pleasure; but it shall be just as she likes."
Juliet immediately felt convicted of ingratitude. He had been so kind in singing to her, it seemed horrid of her to refuse to gratify him in her turn.