"Oh! 't is sweet to think that where'er we rove
We are sure to find something blissful and dear,
And that, when we 're far from the lips that we love,
We 've but to make love to the lips that are near.
The heart, like a tendril accustomed to cling,
Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone,
But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing
It can twine with itself, and make closely its own.
Then oh! what pleasure where'er we rove
To be sure to find something still that is dear;
And to know, when far from the lips that we love,
We have but to make love to the lips that are near."
Amidst the general laughter and applause which followed O'Neil's song, Madame Marianne's gentle word of disapproval was lost. The song had restored the jollity which, for a moment, seemed to have left the party. O'Neil now drained the cup to the last drop, turning the crystal vessel upside down to show that it was empty, and whispered a saucy compliment to the bright-eyed girl beside him. At that moment, when the merriment was at its height, when O'Neil stood with the empty cup in his hand, the door opened, and, as if in answer to the toast, John Graham entered the room. He was greeted by a dozen voices as he made his way to Mrs. Deering's side. Taking her outstretched hand in his own, he dropped upon one knee, and kissed it respectfully.
"Dear my lady, I have come to wish you the happiest New Year, and to join in your loving-cup, in your toast to absent friends--"
"Always welcome, dear Graham," said the lady, laying her hand upon his head for an instant; "there is always a place for you at our table, but alas--"
"You are too late--too late!"
It was Barbara who spoke, interrupting her mother brusquely, her voice full of a reproach inexplicable to all but Graham. He looked at her fixedly for a moment, and then O'Neil clapped him on the back, and held up the empty cup.
"Too late, old fellow, as Miss Barbara says. Never mind," in a lower key, "I have promised Deering to brew an Irish punch, after the ladies withdraw."
The artist stared a moment at the goblet, and shivered as he took the place which had been made for him beside his hostess. Soon the signal was given for the ladies to leave the room; Graham's arrival having precipitated the breaking up of the party. The new-comer did not long remain in the dining-room, but presently followed his hostess into the library, where he found Barbara at the piano. Mrs. Deering signalled him to take a place at her side.
"I fear I took too great a liberty in coming unasked. O'Neil says I stalked into the room like a stage ghost, and cast a gloom over the party."
"You know you are always welcome here. You used to call the Ranch your home."