After tea, he and Marie and Miss Ophelia took possession of the parlor almost in silence.
Marie disposed herself on a lounge, under a silken mosquito curtain, and was soon sound asleep.

Miss Ophelia silently busied herself with her knitting.

St.Clare sat down to the piano, and began playing a soft and melancholy movement with the AEolian accompaniment.

He seemed in a deep reverie, and to be soliloquizing to himself by music.

After a little, he opened one of the drawers, took out an old music-book whose leaves were yellow with age, and began turning it over.
"There," he said to Miss Ophelia, "this was one of my mother's books,--and here is her handwriting,--come and look at it.