At the same moment there was a discordant crash among the piano keys, and Claire's voice was saying, almost angrily: "Dr. Vaughan! how came you here? How dared you—"
There was a suspicious tremor in her voice, and she stopped speaking, as if too proud to show how very much she had been thrown off her guard.
"Forgive me, Miss Keith," the deep voice of Clarence Vaughan responded. "Believe me, I did not intend my presence as an impertinence. Your servant admitted me, and I thought it not wrong to enter unannounced, although I hardly hoped to find you alone. Surely you do not blame me for my silence while you sang?"
Claire made no reply. She was strongly tempted to fly and let Clarence Vaughan think what he would. But before she could stir, he had moved a step nearer and was looking straight down in her eyes.
"Claire," he said, in tones of reverential tenderness, "I have waited for the time to come when I might say to you what you must let me say now. You have seemed to avoid me of late; I can not guess why. And to-day, as I listened to your song, a new thought, a new fear, has entered my mind. Claire, tell me, have you read the love that has been in my heart since I first saw your face, and have you sought to shun me because you love another?"
While he was uttering this speech, Claire Keith had regained her self-command, and her answer now came low and clear: "Dr. Vaughan, you have not guessed aright. I have not avoided you because I love another."
"Claire, nature did not make you an actress. There was love in your voice when you sang that song!"
"Thank you," coolly; "I have been taught to sing with expression."
"Claire, Claire Keith, I beg you answer me truly; do you really dislike me? You say you do not love another; could you learn to love me?"
No answer.