the very floors did not cry out in protest at the desecration.

Life, that mystery of mysteries! The silence at the end and the
beginning is far easier to understand than the rainbow that arches
between. Man, the epitome of his forbears,--more than that, the epitome
of creation,--stands by himself--the riddle of the universe.

The house in some way seemed alive, in pitiful contrast to its mistress,
who lay upstairs, spending her last night in the virginal whiteness of
her chamber. To-night there, and to-morrow night----

Doctor Brinkerhoff, unable to bear the thought, recoiled as if from an
unexpected blow. Was it fancy, or did the painted lips of the young
officer in the uniform of the Colonies part in an ironical smile?

* * * * *

"So," said the Master, as he opened the door, "you are late to your
lesson."

"It is my lesson day, isn't it?" returned Lynn. "But I have only come to
practise. My aunt is dead."

"So? Your aunt?"

"Yes, Aunt Peace. Miss Field, you know," he continued, in explanation.

"So? I did not know. When was it?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"And this is Tuesday. Well, we hear very little up here. It is too bad."

"Yes," agreed Lynn, awkwardly, "It--it upsets things."

The Master looked at him narrowly. "So it does. For instance, you have
lost one lesson on account of it, but you can practise. Come down in
mine shop where I am finishing mine violin. You shall play your
concerto. It is not a necessity to lose the practise for death."

"That's what I thought," said Lynn, as they went downstairs. "She was
very old, you know--more than seventy-five. There is a great deal of
fuss made about such things."

Again the Master looked at him sharply, but Lynn was unconscious and
perfectly sincere. He was not touched at all.

"You can have one of mine violins," the Master resumed, "and I shall
finish the one upon which I am at work. The concerto, please."

At once Lynn began, walking back and forth restlessly as he played. He
had long since memorised the composition, and when he finished the first
movement he paused to tighten a string.

"You," said the Master,--"you have studied composition?"

"Only a little."

"You feel no gift in that line?"

"No, not at all."

"It is only to play?"

"Yes, for the present."

"Then," said the Master, changing the position of the bridge on the
violin in his hand, "if you have no talents for composition, why do you
not let