* * * *

The bright serene hours of the day passed one by one with nature's
carelessness about the human tragedy. It was afternoon and near the hour
for the choral even-song across the way at the cathedral, the temporary
windows of which were open.

She had relieved the nurse, and was alone with him. Often during these
days he had put out one of his hands and groped about with it to touch
her, turning his head a little toward her under his bandaged eyes, and
apparently feeling much mystified about her, but saying nothing. She
kept her bandaged hands out of his reach but leaned over him in response
and talked ever to him, barely stroking him with the tips of her
stiffened fingers.

The afternoon was so quiet that by and by through the opened windows a
deep note sent a thrill into the room--the awakened soul of the organ.
And as the two listened to it in silence, soon there floated over to
them the voices of the choir as the line moved slowly down the aisle,
the blended voices of the chosen band, his school-fellows of the altar.
By the bedside she suddenly rocked to and fro, and then she bent over
and said with a smile in her tone:

"_Do you hear? Do you hear them?_"

He made a motion with his lips to speak but they hurt him too much. So
he nodded: that he heard them.

A moment later he tugged at the bandage over his eyes.

She sprang toward him:

"O my precious one, you must not tear the bandage off your eyes!"

"I want to see you!" he mumbled. "It has been so long since I saw you!
What's the matter with you? Where are your hands? Why don't you put your
arms around me?"

VI

The class had been engaged with another model. Their work was forced and
listless. As days passed without the mother's return, their thought and
their talk concerned itself more and more with her disappearance. Why
had she not come back? What had befallen her? What did it all mean?
Would they ever know?

One day after their luncheon-hour, as they were about to resume work,
the teacher of the class entered. He looked shocked; his look shocked
them; instant sympathy ran through them. He spoke with difficulty:

"She has come back. She is down-stairs. Something had befallen her
indeed. She told me as briefly as possible and I tell you all I know.
Her son, a little fellow who had just been chosen for the cathedral
choir school was run over in the street. A mention of it--the usual
story--was in the papers, bu