let fall, with apparent carelessness, allusions to
"the Charlewoods," and "that uncomfortable
business of poor Walter's," which it was
impossible to resent, and equally impossible to
explain; and Mabel found herself placed in the
disagreeable position of sharing with Mr. Alfred
Trescott a confidential acquaintance with the
private affairs of the Charlewood family.

Young Trescott informed them that his father
and sister were in Ballyhacket, a town belonging
to Mr. Moffatt's "circuit," and that he (Alfred)
should join the company at Kilclare in a week
or two. "Moffatt don't want me just yet," he
said, tossing back his long hair with a gesture
that was habitual to him, and showing the
whole range of his bright teeth, "so I thought
I might as well stay in Dublin for the present,
and have a little fun. Paddy, with all thy faults
I love thee still. There is some poetry and
imagination about the ragged rascals, anyhow.
And I confess it's a relief to me to get the taste
of iron out of my mouth, and the sound of the
hammer and tongs out of my ears. Don't you
agree with me, Miss Earnshaw? I'm sure the
hard money-grinding spirit of those purse-proud,
vulgar Hammerham folks must be very
distasteful to you."

There was a covert sneer in his tone that
annoyed Mabel, and she answered coldly: "I
know some Hammerham folks, Mr. Trescott,
who make a good use of their money."

"So do I," answered Alfred, quickly; "our
friend Mr. Clement Charlewood, for example.
He is a fine-hearted fellow, no doubt. Though
I wish he hadn't quite such a contempt for
everything professionally artistic. It seems a
pity, you know, when you find a capital fellow
like that, with a great deal of intellect too—for
I consider him clever—cherishing narrow
prejudices."

He expressed himself with so much warmth
and apparent sincerity, that Mabel, who was
naturally unsuspicious, reproached herself for
the haughty tone in which she had previously
spoken, and in amends gave him her hand, when
he took his leave, with more cordiality than she
had yet shown towards him.

The only member of the family who seemed at
all disposed to like Alfred Trescott was Mr.
Earnshaw. He was precluded by his blindness
from being subjected to the repulsive
influence of the young man's sinister eyes; and
Alfred had evidently endeavoured to ingratiate
himself with Mr. Walton, as he called him, and
had offered to bring his violin and play to him
as long as he chose. The blind man had always
been remarkably fond of music; but since his
loss of sight, his delight in it had increased to a
passion. It was one of the great regrets of
Janet's life that she had no musical talent
wherewith to gratify her father; they had a
little hired piano, on which Mabel's fingers had
already been set to work many times; and
occasionally at Uncle John's request she would
sing him some simple ballad in a fresh
untutored voice. But Alfred Trescott's playing
was music of a much higher kind than any that
Mabel could pretend to make; and Mr. Earnshaw
enjoyed it most thoroughly.

"I wish," said Janet to her mother, "that it
were any one else but Alfred Trescott who had
offered to come and play to father. I have an
unconquerable aversion to the young man."

"I can't say that I'm fond of him, Janet,"
returned her mother; "but it is thoughtful of
him to remember your father's love for music.
And we can't give him the cold shoulder. Dear
John has so few pleasures, we ought not to
grudge him this one."

So it came to pass that Alfred and his violin
were to be seen and heard nearly every day in
Mrs. Walton's house for a fortnight.

On the first occasion of his coming, he brought
a roll of music in his hand, and begged Miss
Earnshaw to be good enough to accompany him
on the piano. "I am no musician, Mr.
Trescott," said Mabel, to whom the task was
distasteful; "I should do injustice to your sonata
by my unskilful accompaniment."

"Oh, I assure you it is quite simple," said
Alfred, looking disappointed. "Just a few
chords. You can read them easily, I am sure.
In fact, I fear it will be almost impossible for
me to play the piece without the assistance of
the piano."

"Come, Mabel," said Uncle John, "you'll
try, won't you, to oblige me?"

After that, it was impossible to refuse. So
Mabel sat down at the instrument, and found
that she could accomplish her task satisfactorily.

The moment Alfred Trescott took his violin
in his hand, he seemed to be transformed into
another being. It was as if some finer spirit
moved the long supple fingers that pressed the
strings and inspired the curved right arm to
wield the bow. He had pathos, passion, and a
splendid purity and beauty of tone. It was
impossible to resist the charm of his playing.
Even Janet yielded to the spell, and Mabel's
eyes were full of tears as she rose from
the piano. As to the blind man, he sat drinking
in the music with silent ecstasy. Alfred
was quick to perceive the impression he had
made, and took care not to destroy it by
remaining too long. Praise was very sweet to him,
and he was greedy of it, but it did not act with
him as an incentive to exertion. He only said
to himself: "See what an effect I produce upon
these people! How shamefully unjust it is that
so clever a fellow as I am, should be allowed to
remain in obscurity!" However, he steadily
kept his best side towards Mrs. Walton's
family: which, indeed, was not difficult, for
their gentle good humour offered no temptation
to call forth his evil tempers. Mabel, who
was devoting herself heart and soul to the study
of the profession she was about to attempt, and
who found food for the nourishment of her own
artistic capacity in all the other forms of art and
poetry, enjoyed his playing exceedingly.

"I wish," she thought, "that I could have
some one to play to me like that, whenever I
chose. I fancy that I could act so much better,
after listening to such music."