The soft, deep, triumphant final note died away. There was a moment’s silence.
“Dick, you ought to have told me,” said Everard, unsteadily.
But Dick paid no heed. He was looking at Haynes, upon whose cold and rather hard-lined face was such an expression of loving pride and yearning, as utterly transfigured it.
“I ought to be kicked for bringing Everard down here,” thought the gentle-hearted young doctor.
The door opened and Helga entered. As if drawn magnetically, her gaze went straight to Everard Colton. She stopped short.
“Helga!” said he.
The girl caught her breath sharply. Her hand fluttered toward her breast, and fell again. Her colour faded; but instantly she was mistress of herself.
“Good-evening, Mr. Colton,” she said quietly, and gave him her hand as she came forward. “Did you come in this evening? It always is wiser to write ahead for rooms.”
“I don’t understand,” he stammered. “Are you—do you live here?”
“This is my father’s hotel,” she explained. “Father, this is Mr. Everard Colton. Is there a room for him?”