She
became more assertive, more defiant. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her
mouth hardened. With such
qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and
neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that
subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was
rebelling. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. "What has happened?" Ruth asked. Too much blood has been shed already. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man?
Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift?
But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah,
but that had been after he had played for her. He was interesting
and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive
were at best only suggestive. “I am sorry for the
way I acted, Lucy.
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