yet a sound.
Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings
Of that mysterious instrument, the soul,
And play the prelude of our fate._

--LONGFELLOW.

[Illustration: DUOMO AND CAMPANILE. FLORENCE.]

One day Malcom met an old fellow-student. Coming home, he told his
mother of him, and asked permission to bring him for introduction.

"His name is Howard Sinclair. I did not know him very well in the
school, for he was some way ahead of me. He is now in Harvard College.
But his lungs are very weak; and last winter the doctors sent him to
Egypt, and told him he must stay for at least two years in the warmer
countries. He is lonely and pretty blue, I judge; was glad enough to see
me."

"Poor boy! Yes, bring him here, and I will talk with him. Perhaps we can
make it more pleasant for him. You are sure his character is beyond
question, Malcom?"

"I think so. He has lots of money, and is inclined to spend it freely,
but I know he was called a pretty fine fellow in the school, though not
very well known by many. He is rather 'toney,' you know,--held his head
too high for common fellows. The teachers especially liked him; for he
is awfully bright, and took honors right along."

The next day Malcom brought his friend to his mother, whose heart he won
at once by his evident delicate health, his gentlemanly manners, and,
perhaps most of all, because he had been an orphan for years, and was so
much alone in the world. She decided to welcome him to her home, and to
give him the companionship of her young people.

Howard Sinclair was a young man of brilliant intellectual promise. He
had inherited most keen sensibilities, an almost morbid delicacy of
thought, a variable disposition, and a frail body. Both father and
mother died before he was ten years of age, leaving a large fortune for
him, their only child; and, since then, his home had been with an aged
grandmother. Without any young companions in the home, and lacking
desire for activity, he had given himself up to an almost wholly
sedentary life. The body, so delicate by nature, had always been made
secondary to the alert mind. His luxurious tastes could all be
gratified, and thus far he had lived like some conservatory plant.

The very darling of his grandmother's heart, it was like death to her to
part from him when the physicians decided that to save his life it was
an imperative necessity that he should live for a a time in a warmer
climate. It was