n who sought to become a part of her life.

It was in this mood that he entered her presence, and in this mood he
accepted her _amende honorable_, which she made with charming humility,
but when she would have led him to the music-room, for once he
hesitated.

"In a few minutes," he said, "but just now there is something I must say
to you. It is true that I was deeply hurt last night, but your regret,
so graciously expressed, emboldens me to think that you would not
willingly hurt me." He stopped, and she looked at him with a rather
puzzled air. "We have been friends for a great while," he said
irrelevantly.

"Yes," she said cordially, and somewhat relieved. "Haven't we? And what
a friendship it has been! A triangular affair, like a loving cup--you
and I and some one of the great masters of melody. Shall it be Chopin
to-night, or shall we begin with something lighter and finish with the
Twelfth Nocturne, as usual?"

She led the way, and stood by the piano, rippling her fingers over the
keys, and he stood before her, his face white and intense with feeling.
He laid his strong, brown fingers over the white ones, and raised them
to his lips, and Silvia laughed a trifle nervously. It was one of his
old-world ways that she liked, but disapproved with all proper
democratic fervor.

"Has it indeed been a loving cup from which we have drunk?" he said,
with passionate sadness. "I dare not think so, I dare not even hope so
much grace! And yet how is it possible that a man should feel what I
feel for you unless there is a response, little as he may deserve
it----"

He paused, and she took away her hand, and laid it lightly on his
shoulder as he sank down on the seat before the piano.

"Please don't," she said gently. "Don't you see that you are quite
right? If it were really, truly love that had come to you, I should feel
it also, there could be no question of doubting or daring; no thought of
hopelessness. Some time you will know that this is true, when some other
heart speaks to yours in the unmistakable tone of the one only love of
your heart. Each of us has his place in life, and in the lives of those
with whom we come in contact. No one can ever have your place; I can't
tell you how much rest and happiness you have brought me when I have
been a-weary of this world. Come, Orrin, don't rob me of my friend that
I may lose a lover."

By a herculean effort he restrained his feelings, and answered lightly,
"You shall kee