"What is it?" she said, in some surprise, but with no tinge of anger in her voice.
"You slurred," he faltered, not daring to look her in the face, for fear his great love would show itself.
"You mustn't slur--please," he murmured apologetically.
"Did I slur?" she asked. "Well, I assure you, it was unconscious. I didn't mean to do it."
"Yes," she answered, surprised at the irrelevancy of the question.
He was now stroking her hair with his gentle, loving hand.
"You have everything in the world, everything?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, scarcely conscious of his meaning.
"Why shouldn't I be?" she said. "I suppose I have everything to make me."
She stopped playing. This seemed to bring Von Barwig to a sense of his surroundings.
"Come," he said. "We must work! To the lesson! One, two, three; one, two, three."
He could not resist the impulse. He leaned over and again grasped her hands in his. She looked up at him, this time in utter surprise.
"You were slurring again, slurring again," he said, frightened at his lack of self-control.
"Was I, indeed?" said Hélène. "Well, you'll have to punish me severely if this goes on."
"One, two, three; one, two, three," he counted. His voice was choked with emotion, and he could barely see for his tears.
"No, no; I could not punish you. I could not put one straw in your way--only--I want to meet your father. Yes," he said in a more decided tone, "I want to meet your father! One, two, three; one, two, three." Whenever Von Barwig wanted to conceal his real feelings he counted.
"I've gone into the 4-4 exercise," commented Hélène.
"Yes, yes! One, two, three, four," counted Von Barwig timidly. "One, two, three, four; yes, I want to meet him." Then he added almost savagely, "I must meet him!"
"If you please, miss, will you come down in the library?"
"Mr. Stanton wishes to see you at once, miss," said Denning in a low voice, so that Von Barwig could not hear.
"My father?" repeated Hélène. "Please don't go till I return, Herr Von Barwig," and Hélène left the music master alone.
Hélène found her father awaiting her in the library. His manner was excessively nervous. He seemed to be labouring under a strain.
"Sit down," he said briefly. His voice was harsh, his manner commanding. Hélène sat down. In front of Mr. Stanton lay a pile of letters. He pointed to them.