Charles put down his paper and moved slightly, so that he had a better view of the piano. Evelyn laid down her work and looked affectionately at Ruth.
"Exquisite," said Lady Mary from time to time, who had said the same of Lady Grace's wavering little soprano.
"You also sing duets? You sing duets?" eagerly inquired Dare, the music-stool creaking with his suppressed excitement; and, without waiting for an answer, he began playing the opening chords of "Greeting."
The two voices rose and fell together, now soft, now triumphant, harmonizing as if they sung together for years. Dare's second was low, pathetic, and it blended at once with Ruth's clear young contralto. Charles wondered that the others should applaud when the duet was finished. Ruth's voice went best alone in his opinion.
"And the 'Cold Blast'?" asked Dare, immediately afterwards. "The 'Cold Blast' was here a moment ago,"—turning the leaves over rapidly. "You are not tired, Miss Deyncourt?"
"Tired!" replied Ruth, her eyes sparkling. "It never tires me to sing. It rests me."
"Ah! so it is with me. That is just how I feel," said Dare. "To sing, or to listen to the voice of—of—"
"Of what? Confound him!" wondered Charles.
"Of another," said Dare. "Ah, here he is!" and he pounced on another song, and lightly touched the opening chords.
"'Oh! wert thou in the cold blast,'"