VI

THE LIGHT ON THE ALTAR

Colonel Kent had gone away on a short business trip and Allison was
spending his evenings, which otherwise would have been lonely, at Madame
Bernard's. After talking for a time with Aunt Francesca and Isabel, it
seemed natural for him to take up his violin and suggest, if only by a
half-humorous glance, that Rose should go to the piano.

Sometimes they played for their own pleasure and sometimes worked for
their own benefit. Neither Madame nor Isabel minded hearing the same
thing a dozen times or more in the course of an evening, for, as Madame
said, with a twinkle in her blue eyes, it made "a pleasant noise," and
Isabel did not trouble herself to listen.

Both Rose and Allison were among the fortunate ones who find joy in
work. Rose was so keenly interested in her music that she took no count
of the hours spent at the piano, and Allison fully appreciated her. It
had been a most pleasant surprise for him to find a good accompanist so
near home.

The discouraging emptiness of life had mysteriously vanished for Rose.
Her restlessness disappeared as though by magic and her indefinite
hunger had been, in some way, appeased. She had unconsciously emerged