some
of our old-country songs? It would comfort him."

"No, go ahead," I said; "I wish he would."

So she got an ancient violin, and the old man cuddled it lovingly and
played soft, weird melodies, songs of the Czech race, that made me think
of Romance, of love and hate, and passion and despair. Piece after
piece he played, as if pouring out the sadness and heart-hunger of a
burdened people, until my own heart ached in sympathy.

The wild music throbbed with passionate sweetness and despair.
Unobserved, the pale twilight stole into the little cabin. The ruggedly
fine face of the old man was like one inspired, and with clasped hands,
the girl sat, very white-faced and motionless. Then I saw a gleam on her
cheek, the soft falling of tears. Somehow, at that moment, I felt drawn
very near to those two, the music, the tears, the fervent sadness of
their faces. I felt as if I had been allowed to share with them a few
moments consecrated to their sorrow, and that they knew I understood.

That day as I was leaving, I said to her:

"Berna, this is our last night on board."

"Yes."

"To-morrow our trails divide, maybe never again to cross. Will you come
up on deck for a little while to-night? I want to talk to you."

"Talk to me?"

She looked startled, incredulous. She hesitated.

"Please, Berna, it's the last time."

"All right," she answered in a low tone.

Then she looked at me curiously.

CHAPTER IV

She came to meet me, lily-white and sweet. She was but thinly wrapped,
and shivered so that I put my coat around her. We ventured forward,
climbing over a huge anchor to the very bow of the boat, and crouching
down in its peak, were sheltered from the cold breeze.

We were cutting through smooth water, and crowding in on us were haggard
mountains, with now and then the greenish horror of a glacier. Overhead,
in the desolate sky, the new moon nursed the old moon in her arms.

"Berna!"

"Yes."

"You're not happy, Berna. You're in sore trouble, little girl. I don't
know why you come up to this God-forsaken country or why you are with
those people. I don't want to know; but if there's anything I can do for
you, any way I can prove myself a true friend, tell me, won't you?"

My voice betrayed emotion. I could feel her slim form, very close to me,
all a-tremble. In the filtered silver of the crescent moon, I could see
her face, wan and faintly sweet. Gently I prisoned one of her hands in
mine.

She d