Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. ’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. ” She replied. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home.
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