Surely the siren left nothing untried to please her patron and benefactor.

When he complained of fatigue and bade the two women good night, she started and lighted his wax candle and gave it to him.  The next day she was on hand to help him on with his great coat, and to hand him his gloves and hat, and he thanked her with a smile.

So went on life at Rockhold all the week.

On Saturday evening Mr. Clarence came home with his father and greeted
Rose Stillwater with the kindly courtesy that was habitual with him.

There were four at the dinner table.  And Rose, having so excellent a coadjutor in the younger Rockharrt, was even gayer and more chatty than ever, making the meal a lively and cheerful one even for moody Aaron Rockharrt and sorrowful Cora Rothsay.

After dinner, when the party had gone into the drawing room, Mrs. Stillwater said: 

“Here are just four of us.  Just enough for a game at whist.  Shall we have a rubber, Mr. Rockharrt?”

“Yes, my child!  Certainly, with all my heart!  I thank you for the suggestion!  I have not had a game of whist since we left the city.  Ah, my child, we have had very stupid evenings here at home until you came and brought some life into the house.  Clarence, draw out the card table.  Cora, go and find the cards.”

“Let me!  Let me!  Please let me!” exclaimed Rose, starting up with childish eagerness.  “Where are the cards, Cora, dear?”

“They are in the drawer of the card table.  You need not stir to find them, thank you, Mrs. Stillwater.”

“No; here they are all ready,” said Mr. Clarence, who had drawn the table up before the fire and taken the pack of cards from the drawer.

The party of four sat down for the game.

“We must cut for partners,” said Mr. Rockharrt, shuffling the cards and then handing them to Mrs. Stillwater for the first cut.

“The highest and the two lowest to be partners?” inquired Rose, as she lifted half the pack.

“Of course, that is the rule.”

Each person cut in turn, and fortune favored Mrs. Stillwater to Mr. Clarence, and Cora to Mr. Rockharrt.  Then they cut for deal, and fortune favored Mr. Rockharrt.

The cards were dealt around.

Rose Stillwater had an excellent hand, and she knew by the pleased looks of her partner, Mr. Clarence, that he also had a good one; and by the annoyed expression of Mr. Rockharrt’s face that he had a bad one.  Cora’s countenance was as the sphnix’s; she was too sadly preoccupied to care for this game.

However, Rose determined that she would play into the hand of her antagonist and not into that of her partner.

Pursuing this policy, she watched Mr. Rockharrt’s play, always returned his lead, and when her attention was called to the error, she would flush, exhibit a lovely childlike embarrassment, declare that she was no whist player at all, and beg to be forgiven; and the very next moment she would trump her partner’s trick, or purposely commit some other blunder that would be sure to give the trick to Mr. Rockharrt.