There was an instantaneous flash of joy over Beulah’s troubled face, and she said hastily: 

“You have escaped the contagion, then?  Such exemption is rare nowadays, for skepticism broods with sable wings over the age”

“It has always brooded where man essayed to lift the veil of Isis; to elucidate the arcana of the universe, to solve the unsolvable.  Skepticism is the disease of minds which Christian faith alone can render healthy.”

The thrust showed she was not invulnerable; but before she could reply, Georgia exclaimed: 

“In the name of common sense, Reginald, what are you discoursing about so tiresomely?  I suppose I am shamefully stupid, but I don’t understand a word you two have been saying.  When father and Beulah get on such dry, tedious subjects I always set up an opposition at the piano, which in this instance I am forced to do, from sheer necessity.”

She raised the lid of the piano and rattled off a brilliant overture; then made Beulah join her in several instrumental duets.  As the latter rose, Mr. Lindsay said, somewhat abruptly: 

“I believe you sing.  My cousins have been extolling your voice, and I have some curiosity to hear you.  Will you gratify me?”

“Certainly, if you desire it.”

She could not refrain from smiling at the perfect nonchalance of his manner, and, passing her fingers over the keys, sang a beautiful air from “Lucia.”  Her guest listened attentively, and, when the song was ended, approached the piano, and said, with some interest: 

“I should prefer a simple ballad, if you will favor me with one.”

“Something after the order of ‘Lilly Dale,’ Beulah.  He hears nothing else in his country home,” said Georgia teasingly.

He smiled, but did not contradict her, and Beulah sang that exquisite ballad, “Why Do Summer Roses Fade?” It was one of her guardian’s favorite airs, and now his image was associated with the strain.  Ere the first verse was finished, a deep, rich, manly voice, which had sometimes echoed through the study, seemed again to join hers, and, despite her efforts, her own tones trembled.

Soon after Beulah took her place at the tea table in the center of the room, and conversation turned on the delights of country life.

“Reginald, how do you manage to amuse yourself in that little town of yours?” asked Georgia, drawing the bowl of strawberries near and helping him bountifully.

“I might answer that I had passed the age when amusement was necessary, but I will not beg your question so completely.  In the first place, I do not reside in town.  My office is there, and during the day, when not absent at court, I am generally in my office; but evening always finds me at home.  Once there, I have endless sources of amusement; my mother’s flowers and birds, my farm affairs, my music, and my library, to say nothing of hunting and fishing.  Remember, Georgia, that, as a class, lawyers are not addicted to what you call amusements.”