was weary and dusty with the soil of the office upon his hands and
clothes. He did not care to meet a visitor, so under cover of the music he
slipped into the door of his library across the hall from the parlor and
dropped into his great arm-chair.

Softly and tenderly stole the music through the open door, all about him,
like the gentle dropping of some tender psalms or comforting chapter in
the Bible to an aching heart. It touched his brow like a soft soothing
hand, and seemed to know and recognize all the agonies his heart had been
passing through, and all the weariness his body felt.

He put his head back and let it float over him and rest him. Tinkling
brooks and gentle zephyrs, waving of forest trees, and twitterings of
birds, calm lazy clouds floating by, a sweetness in the atmosphere, bells
far away, lowing herds, music of the angels high in heaven, the soothing
strain from each extracted and brought to heal his broken heart. It fell
like dew upon his spirit. Then, like a fresh breeze with zest and life
borne on, came a new strain, grand and fine and high, calling him to
better things. He did not know it was a strain of Handel's music grown
immortal, but his spirit recognized the higher call, commanding him to
follow, and straightway he felt strengthened to go onward in the course he
had been pursuing. Old troubles seemed to grow less, anguish fell away
from him. He took new lease of life. Nothing seemed impossible.

Then she played by ear one or two of the old tunes they sang in church,
touching the notes tenderly and almost making them speak the words. It
seemed a benediction. Suddenly the playing ceased and Marcia remembered it
was nearly supper time.

He met her in the doorway with a new look in his eyes, a look of high
purpose and exultation. He smiled upon her and said: "That was good,
child. I did not know you could do it. You must give it to us often."
Marcia felt a glow of pleasure in his kindliness, albeit she felt that the
look in his eyes set him apart and above her, and made her feel the child
she was. She hurried out to get the supper between pleasure and a nameless
unrest. She was glad of this much, but she wanted more, a something to
meet her soul and satisfy.

CHAPTER XIX

The world had not gone well with Mistress Kate Leavenworth, and she was
ill-pleased. She had not succeeded in turning her father's heart toward
herself as she had confidently expec