"To-day? Charming. I could do all sorts of things. Walk down to the beach, or up to the village; or play a fantasia on the harp." As she spoke, a string flew. "Hark;" she said, "I have lost a harp-string; a small one I think by the sound. Just look and tell me the extent of the damage, Mr. Haveloc."
"One of the very smallest. Look—up at the top here."
"I must get up and mend it," said Aveline. "The harp-strings are in that drawer, Mr. Haveloc; may I trouble you?"
She rose languidly, and moved to the harp; resting her hand on the table as she went: selected one of the strings Mr. Haveloc brought her, and began to undo the broken one. But, in spite of her boast, it was not one of her good days. She wavered, and caught the harp for support.
"Why will you not rest;" he said, drawing a chair close to her. "I can put on your string—give me the key."
Aveline sank into the chair and resigned her task to him.
"But who taught you to put on harp-strings?" said she, with a searching look.
"I learned it years ago of a harp player, who was teaching the sister of a friend of mine. He said I should one day find it a useful accomplishment. Do you not agree with him?"
"Perfectly!" said Aveline, looking up to him with a smile.
"And which does this string rhyme to?" he asked, when he had put it on.