CHAPTER VIII.
SIR HARRY.
There was an air of lassitude, of settled melancholy, and at times of abstraction, apparent about Eveline, which she could not always successfully conceal, that did not fail to impress and surprise the baronet of Hurdell Hall and his sister, and the latter observed her narrowly when they were together in the drawing-room.
'I have heard that you sing beautifully, Lady Puddicombe,' said she, opening the piano.
'I used to sing—a little,' replied Eveline.
'Used to sing! Why drop so charming an accomplishment?'
'I have had thoughts of late that make me sad.'
'We must cure you of all that. What style of music do you love most?'
'I love all music that is beautiful.'
'And songs?'
'That are melancholy.'