no part of _him_."

Mrs. Garrison was strangely assured in her own heart that Vesty
Kirtland would never tell the son of his mother's visit to her. She
did not mean that Grace Langham should ever know the full cause that
had unsettled him.

"We must be very tender with him, keep near to him," she said, "or,
when he recovers, he may do himself harm, with remorse, and--the fear
of losing your love, Grace."

They were very tender with him. And by good chance, too, the post
brought a famed "Review," copying entire the brilliant fellow's essay
on "American Politics," with the editor's comment of "masterly."

"See!" screamed Grace; "it says 'masterly.'"

"Of course it 's mast--mast--masterly," said Notely, his beautiful eyes
burning.

They drove with him, the stout coachman perched for safety on the seat
beside him. At evening he tried to catch Grace in the arbor and kiss
her. She screamed and escaped.

"Come, dearest!" said his mother. She left the door wide between his
sleeping-room and hers, and laid the triumphant review at his hand for
his waking in the morning.

But on the morrow he was neither remorseful nor subdued, though his
eyes were hollow. He smoked a great deal, and sang melancholy,
unembarrassed snatches of song, after the manner of Captain Pharo, and
made love to Grace, who was beautiful.

At evening he tucked his violin under his arm. "I am going down to
call on the new Basin bride," he said, with airy, cheerful contempt for
that class.

His mother paled. He went up to her and kissed her. "Do not fear,
mother," he whispered.

The boys welcomed him somewhat eagerly. He had been their teacher on
the violin, as well as the original donor of those beloved instruments.
And they had thought he might not come to that house again.

"I've a new tune for you, boys," he said. Vesty came in. He rose and
bowed, taking her hand. "I congratulate the new bride!" He would not
look at her pallor or her great beseeching eyes.

"I've this to show you, boys, that I've been practising to-day." He
had not touched the strings for forty-eight hours! There was a covert
smile, sad, playful, not malicious, on his face as his hands touched
them now.

Where he had been "practising" indeed! From what source he had got
that music that he played for them now! He would never play the like
again.

"Bah!" said he, at the close, with his old cheerful manner; "it is too
sad! When one is possessed only for