"If the charm of his personality so impresses us who have known him only a very little while, I am thinking what those who are near and dear to him must feel."
"I, too," said Karen, faintly.
"Yet she loves him best who would not have it otherwise it seems."
"Yes; he must go," said Karen. "Some could not have it—otherwise."
A man came to light the lamps. And a little while after they were lighted Mrs. Courland quietly looked up from her knitting. One swift, clear glance she gave; saw in the young girl's eyes what she had already divined must be there. Then bent again above her ivory needles. After a while she sighed, very lightly.
"They're late," remarked Darrel from the window.
"They are probably strolling up the drive; Valentine knows enough not to get lost," said her mother.
After a few moments Karen said: "Would my playing disturb you?"
"No, dear. Please!"
So Karen rose and walked to the piano. Presently Darrel turned and seated himself to listen to the deathless sanity of Beethoven flowing from the keys under a young girl's slender fingers.