“Harry has no wish to deprive you of such a very simple pleasure; I will shed my rays upon you, as you poetically term it, by playing you the very few new pieces I have learned since you last heard me, George. And, Harry, you are feverish—you had better not stay up; I have nothing to play that you have not heard, and I will come up and read you to sleep by the time you are ready for me.”
She rang the bell without giving him time to answer; and Harry, who was really too worn out to make much resistance, grumblingly went off with the servant, who lent a stout arm to his tottering master.
Annie went to the piano, and played one thing after another, and sung a French song which they only half understood, but which sent them into fits of laughter, until George, who was leaning on the instrument, grew more interested in the talk he was having with her than in the music; and, as her fingers, from idly playing, at last ceased altogether and lay on the keys, he said:
“Come into the conservatory. You love flowers, and there you will let me smoke, I know.”
Annie shook her head reluctantly.
“I mustn’t. I’ve promised Harry to read to him. He will be past being read to and do nothing but growl if I delay any longer,” said she, with resignation, as she rose slowly and shut the piano.
“How you have managed to tame the bear, though!” said George, admiringly. “Of course gratitude or courtesy is out of the question with him; but I thought even submission was, until I saw him follow you out of the dining-room to-night. But then an archangel couldn’t have resisted you as you looked at that moment,” continued he, in a low voice, bending down to look into her eyes. “It was hard to see a look like that wasted upon such a clod.”
“Do you think so?” said Annie, laughing lightly, as she went up-stairs and he followed her. “Why, that is only the old story! It is the ‘clods’ of the earth who get the benefit of all the beauty and grace and pleasant things in the world.”
“You have grown cynical, Annie. Come in here for a few minutes and explain yourself.”
He led the way into the dimly-lighted picture-gallery, where Annie and William had had their first game of battledoor and shuttlecock four and a half years before. She sunk down upon the cushioned ottoman to which George led her, and looked gravely at him as he seated himself beside her.