The delicacy of her touch enabled her to render it with peculiar pathos and power; and she played on and on, unmindful of Miss Harding’s entrance—­oblivious of everything but the sublime strains of the great master.

The light streamed over her face, and showed a gladness, an exaltation of expression there, as if her soul had broken from its earthly moorings, and was making its way joyfully into the infinite sea of eternal love and blessedness.

At last her fingers fell from the keys, and as she rose she saw Mr. Murray standing outside of the parlor door, with his fingers shading his eyes.

He came in soon after, and his mother held out her hand, saying: 

“Here is a seat, my son.  Have you just returned?”

“No, I have been here some time.”

“How are affairs at the plantation?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Why?  I thought you went there to-day.”

“I started; but found my horse so lame that I went no further than town.”

“Indeed!  Hagar told me you had not returned, when I came in from visiting.”

“Like some other people of my acquaintance, Hagar reckons without her host.  I have been at home ever since twelve o’clock, and saw the carriage as you drove off.”

“And pray how have you employed yourself, you incorrigible ignis fatuus?  O my cousin! you are well named.  Aunt Ellen must have had an intuitive insight into your character when she had you christened St. Elmo; only she should have added the ‘Fire—­’ How have you spent the day, sir?”

“Most serenely and charmingly, my fair cousin, in the solitude of my den.  If my mother could give me satisfactory security that all my days would prove as quiet and happy as this has been, I would enter into bonds never to quit the confines of Le Bocage again.  Ah! the indescribable relief of feeling that nothing was expected of me; that the galling gyves of hospitality and etiquette were snapped, and that I was entirely free from all danger of intrusion.  This day shall be marked with a white stone; for I entered my rooms at twelve o’clock, and remained there in uninterrupted peace till five minutes ago; when I put on my social shackles once more, and hobbled down to entertain my fair guest.”

Edna was arranging some sheets of music that were scattered on the piano; but as he mentioned the hour of his return, she remembered that the clock struck one just as she went into the sitting-room where he kept his books and cabinets; and she knew now that he was at that very time in the inner room, beyond the arch.  She put her hand to her forehead, and endeavored to recollect the appearance of the apartment.  The silk curtains, she was sure, were hanging over the arch; for she remembered distinctly having noticed a large and very beautiful golden butterfly which had fluttered in from the terrace, and was flitting over the glowing folds that fell from the carved intrados to the marble floor.  But though screened from her view, he must have heard and seen her, as she sat before his book-case, turning his letter curiously between her fingers.