She went into the drawing-room to resume her neglected duties at the tea-table; but Kitty remained standing by the piano, turning over some music. Henriette's last words had moved her deeply. Could a despised love be so absorbing that for its sake a man would gladly die? Could it have such power over a man like Doctor Bruck?

He was just leaving Flora's room; the Frau President at the same moment rustled through the music-room,—two elderly ladies had just arrived, and she was hastening to receive them. The study-door remained open; the unfinished article was surely in process of completion, for nothing stirred there, even after FrÄulein von Giese seated herself at the piano again and ran her fingers over the keys.

Kitty glanced towards the doctor, who had entered the drawing-room. He went to the tea-table to talk with Henriette, but one of the newly-arrived ladies detained him in conversation. His air was courteous and composed, but Kitty had seen his eyes flash and his cheek crimson at Flora's malicious words, and even now the colour in his face was deeper than usual,—he was by no means so calm and cheerful as he seemed. His beautiful adversary in the study was scarcely more composed; after about five minutes she pushed back her chair, with audible impatience, and came into the music-room.

"Well, Flora, have you finished already?" the maid of honour asked, as she went on striking thirds in quick succession on the keys.

"Nonsense! do you suppose an effective conclusion runs off your pen's point as quickly as that? I am not in the humour, and I will not write unless I am. The calling of authoress is too sacred."

FrÄulein von Giese's eyes had a malicious twinkle in them,—their expression was never quite honest. "I am very curious to know what the critics will say of your great work upon 'Woman;' you have talked so much of it, Flora. Has the publisher accepted it?"

Flora had noted the glance. "Ah, how you dear creatures would rejoice if it were a failure! But that pleasure must be denied you, as I am assured by—well, by my little finger." She laughed a low, self-satisfied laugh, shook the light curls from her brow, and prepared to enter the drawing-room with the regal air she knew so well how to adopt.

"My dear, you stand there with those notes in your hand as if you, too, wished to besiege our ears," she said to Kitty, in passing, with a meaning glance towards the diligent performer at the piano. "Do you sing?" Kitty shook her head. "It would be an inheritance from the Sommers; our family have no voices for singing."

"Yes, Flora, Kitty plays on the piano," the councillor replied from the doorway, where he was standing with several gentlemen. "I know that from the bills I have received from Dresden. A great deal of money, Kitty,—I meant to tell you that you employ very dear teachers."

The young girl laughed. "The best, Moritz. We are practical people in Dresden. The best is the cheapest."

"Well, I have no objection. Have you really any talent?" he asked, dubiously. "A gift for music is not a Mangold characteristic."

"I have a great love for it, at all events," she replied, simply, "and a delight in composing melodies."

Flora, who was just upon the threshold of the drawing-room, turned in surprise. "Nonsense, Kitty!" she said, hastily. "Compose melodies! You look like it, with those red cheeks and your prosaic training. Quite natural that a polka or a waltz should sometimes flit through the brain of any one who is fond of dancing——"

"And I am passionately fond of dancing, Flora," Kitty interrupted her, frankly.

"I thought so. Scarcely compatible, though, with profound originality in creation. You have probably taken lessons in composition?"

"For the last three years."

Flora clasped her hands and came back into the music-room. "Your Lukas"—she always called the former governess thus by her maiden name—"must be insane, to throw money away in that fashion."

It was very quiet in the adjoining drawing-room. The three old gentlemen by the fire, and the lady who had been speaking with the doctor, had just seated themselves at a card-table; Doctor Bruck was talking in a low tone to Henriette; and FrÄulein von Giese paused for a moment to listen; every one in the drawing-room could hear this tolerably loud conversation.

Henriette sprang up and came into the music-room. "You can play, Kitty," she said, surprised, "and have never touched the keys since you came?"

"The piano is so near to Flora's study, I could not presume to interrupt her work by my playing," the young girl answered, naturally and simply. "I have longed—I do not deny that my fingers have fairly burned to try this instrument, for it is magnificent, and my cottage piano in Dresden is not worth much. It was not new when we bought it, five years ago. My Frau Doctor wished to ask for a new one long ago, but I opposed it. I did not wish you to estimate my musical powers by such a demand. But after my glimpse of a certain safe to-day, I am wonderfully bold: I want just such an instrument as this."

"It costs a thousand thalers!—a thousand thalers for a girl's whim. It requires consideration, Kitty."

"Who in this house plays upon your instrument?" she now asked, in a hard tone, with flashing eyes. She was evidently deeply wounded. "To whose quiet enjoyment does it minister? It is here only for your guests. Must money never be spent except to make a show?"

The councillor approached her and took her hand; he had never before seen the girlish face go informed with energy and self-assertion. "Do not agitate yourself, my dear child," he said, gently. "Have I ever been a hard or grudging guardian to you? Go play us something to prove that music is really dear to your heart,—I ask nothing more,—and you shall have any instrument you desire."

"I do not like to play, after what has passed," she said, frankly, as she withdrew her hand from his. "I do not wish to buy my piano by playing for it; and who can tell what can convince you that my music is dear to my heart? But I will get my notes, for I detest being urged to play."

"Why get any notes? Play one of your own compositions," said Flora, only half suppressing a sneer.

"I do not know even those by heart," Kitty answered, as she left the room.

She returned in a few moments with a sheet of music. As she seated herself upon the piano-stool, which FrÄulein von Giese readily vacated for her, Flora took up the notes she had placed on the music-desk, and asked, pointing to the title-page, "Who is the composer?"

"Why, did you not ask me to play something of my own?"

"Certainly; but you have made a mistake: this is printed music——"

"True: it is printed."

"Heavens! how did that happen?" Flora asked, hastily, surprised out of her usual self-possession.

"How does it happen, Floss, that your productions are printed?" Kitty asked, in jest, as she placed her beautiful slender hands upon the keys. "I will tell you how I was so honoured," she added, soothingly. Flora had evidently taken her reply very much amiss, for she had drawn herself up with an offended air. "My teachers had this fantasia printed privately, to give me a pleasant surprise upon my birthday."

"Ah, indeed! that I can understand," Flora said, putting the notes back upon the desk.

Henriette, who had meanwhile been standing behind Kitty, pointed over her shoulder to the title-page. "Do not let her impose upon you, Flora!" she exclaimed, with a laugh. "Look there!—Schott & Sons,—that firm would hardly lend itself to a birthday jest. Kitty, tell the truth," she begged, with beaming eyes. "Your compositions are popular,—there is a sale for them?"

The young girl assented with a blush. "But it is true, also, that I knew nothing of my first appearance in public. I found my first printed opus upon my table with my birthday presents," she said, as she began to play.

It was a very simple melody that now fell upon the listeners' ears; but after the first few notes the players at the card-tables dropped their cards, so liquid and pure were the tones that filled the air, so touchingly were they rendered. The young composer sat there, her eyes earnestly riveted upon the notes, so calm and quiet that one could see the jet cross upon her breast rise and fall with each breath. Here was no brilliant execution, no crash of chords,—one hardly asked what style of performance it was,—there was no thought of the performance, any more than of the shape of a singer's mouth when an enchanting song is issuing from it; and when the melody ceased with a few low notes, breathed as it were from the instrument, there was a moment of breathless silence, as if all feared that any noise might scare the fleeting spirit of music. Then the drawing-room awoke to life. The gentlemen cried, "Brava!" "Charmante!" "Superbe!" and the ladies lamented that Herr Mangold was not alive to hear it. They were astonished and touched, and—took up their cards again.

"You must give me that charming fantasia, FrÄulein Mangold: I will play it to the princess," said the maid of honour, with an air of patronage.

"And you shall have the finest 'concert grand' that can be found, Kitty!" the councillor added, with enthusiasm.

But Henriette caressingly laid her pale cheek against her sister's, and whispered, with tears in her eyes, "You gifted darling!"

At the first notes, Flora had retreated as if frightened away from the piano. She paced slowly to and fro in the red room, at each entrancing turn of the melody casting a half-scared glance at the performer, and, when the last tones died away, the restless white figure was no longer to be seen: it had probably withdrawn to the recess of a window.

"Ah, Flora seems to take it amiss that she is no longer the sole celebrity in the Mangold family," FrÄulein von Giese whispered, maliciously, half to herself and half to the councillor.

The councillor smiled,—he always smiled when any one from the court addressed him,—but he forbore to reply.

"I am greatly provoked with your Frau Doctor for never telling us of your musical talent," he said to Kitty, who was just leaving the piano.

She laughed. "There is very little said about it at home," she replied, quietly. "The Frau Doctor is seldom profuse in words of praise; she knows how much I have to learn."

"Nonsense! That is Spartan training——"

"Or the most refined cunning in producing a grand final effect," interposed Flora, who now made her appearance. She looked flushed with fever. "You cannot mislead me, Kitty, with this modest self-depreciation, making so light of your talent that during the five days you have been here you have never betrayed your knowledge even of the notes of music. It is treating me—treating us all—deceitfully, unfairly." Her fine sonorous voice was thick with rising anger.

"That may well be your mode of judging, Flora," Henriette indignantly exclaimed. "You who are never weary of vaunting your literary efforts, and already base your pretensions in society upon a reputation yet to be acquired——"

"Henriette, your tea-table requires your attention," the Frau President called, in a sharp stern tone,—the talk in the music-room was growing too loud,—and Henriette sullenly returned to her charge.

"You are mistaken, Flora, if you think I undervalue my talent," Kitty said, gently, while her haughty sister bit her lip and followed Henriette's retreating figure with angry eyes. "To do so would be untrue to myself, and most ungrateful, for it gives me hours of delicious enjoyment. Accident alone has prevented my speaking of my music since my arrival, for indeed it is the cause of my coming here a month earlier than was proposed. My teacher of composition was obliged to leave Dresden for a month, and because my waiting would have cost me two months of instruction, I hastily made up my mind to leave the city when he did so."

As Kitty finished speaking, FrÄulein von Giese went into the drawing-room, evidently with great reluctance,—these explanations were so very entertaining; but her father, an aged and pensioned colonel, had arrived. The councillor followed her.

Flora again approached the piano, and took the sheet of music from the desk. Kitty saw her breast heave and her hand tremble with nervous agitation, and bitterly repented her thoughtless introduction of her little work.

"I suppose you have had all sorts of flattering things said to you about this?" Flora said, striking the title-page with the back of her hand, as she eagerly watched the lips opening in reply.

"By whom?" Kitty rejoined. "My teachers are quite as chary of praise as my Frau Doctor, and no one else knows of my authorship; you see, there is no composer's name there."

"But the thing finds a ready sale?"

Kitty was silent.

"Tell the truth. Has it passed through more than one edition?"

"Yes."

Flora threw the music upon the piano. "Fame comes in sleep to such a bread-and-butter miss as this, with her round red cheeks and phlegmatic nature, while others struggle laboriously up each round of the ladder; they almost die in the agonizing strife before they are even heard of." She folded her arms and paced to and fro.

"But what does it really matter?" she suddenly said, pausing as if relieved. "The most brilliant rocket vanishes and leaves not a trace in the air, while the fiery heart of Vesuvius throbs and glows,—the world knows of its burning core, and exults or trembles when the flames leap forth. Be it so. There are now two of the Mangold family to step forth into the arena. We shall see, Kitty, which of us will have the more brilliant career."

"Not I, you may rely upon it," Kitty replied, gaily, stroking back a rebellious curl from her brow. "I shall take good care not to enter the arena. Do not imagine that I do not care for results. It is an indescribable pleasure to know that one can sway and touch the souls of men, and I would not resign such knowledge for the wealth of the world. But to live for that and that alone? No; I see too much of the happiness of home, the delights of mutual sympathy in aim and labour. Of what use were fame to me if it left me lonely?"

"Aha! there we have the root of the matter, the quintessence of your whole homely training. You will attain the same end for which your FrÄulein Lukas strove, and which she has attained,—you will marry." And a hard laugh accompanied the sneer.

The exquisite colour in the young girl's cheeks suddenly flushed her forehead to the roots of her hair, and even her snowy throat was crimsoned for an instant. "You sneer and laugh as if it had never occurred to you to do the same," she said indignantly, involuntarily lowering her voice; "and yet——"

Flora hastily extended her hand, as if to bar further utterance from the lovely lips. "Not another word, pray!" she exclaimed, authoritatively. Again she folded her arms and slowly inclined her head in assent. "Yes, my very wise young sister, I certainly was so weak and blind for a moment as to allow myself to be caught in a net; but, thank God! my head is free again, and is clear and strong enough to win back my liberty."

"And have you no conscience then, Flora?"

"A very sensitive conscience, my dear; it tells me that it would be most culpable frivolity to throw myself away. You remember your Bible well enough to know that we are each and all answerable for the employment of our talent. Look at me, and ask yourself if it is my rÔ1e to play the Frau Doctor and devote my time to housekeeping. And for whom?" She nodded her head towards the drawing-room, where the conversation was just then rather lively: old Colonel von Giese's arrival had inspired the guests with some animation. Doctor Bruck, however, was sitting alone by the tea-table, looking over a newspaper,—he was apparently absorbed by it, and had hardly looked up upon Henriette's return to his side.

"Do you see any of the gentlemen talking with him?" Flora asked, in a suppressed tone. "He is ostracized, and with justice. He has deceived me and the world. His brilliant reputation was the merest tinsel."

She broke off, and retired to her room, obviously to avoid the talkative old colonel, who now entered the music-room with his daughter and the councillor to beg for an introduction to Kitty. At his request, the young girl seated herself again at the instrument and played. Strange! As she lifted her eyes from the notes, she found her brother-in law watching her with an intense and indescribable expression, not at all like the brotherly air with which he gave her, as a child, a box of bonbons, or with which he had but yesterday brought her a bouquet from town. She willingly resigned her hand to him when he took it in conversation, and often permitted him to stroke her hair caressingly from her brow,—he did it much as her father had been used to do it; and now, when she had finished playing, and amid the enthusiastic applause that followed, he came hastily to her side and laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"Kitty, what a change is this!" he whispered, bending over her. "It is Clotilde, your sister, but infinitely more beautiful, more richly gifted!"

She put up her hand to remove his from her shoulder; but Moritz possessed himself of it, and held it as if in a life-long grasp. For the others it was only a pretty, innocent picture: the guardian was proudly caressing his ward,—the child entrusted to his care by his father-in-law. Henriette's pale face alone flushed crimson; she smiled oddly. Doctor Bruck, standing beside her, looked at his watch, then quietly gave Henriette his hand, and took advantage of the general commotion to withdraw unobserved.