ur father."

"Very well, I will speak to mother," she replied, with shining face,
and disappeared within.

The mother, mindful of Serviss's connection with a great university,
made no objection to the plan. On the contrary, she was pleased and
flattered by his interest in her daughter, and a few moments later the
young people rode off up the mountain road side by side and in high
spirits.

Serviss winced at times at the childish flatness of Viola's comment,
but her voice was musical and her face flower-like--therefore he
forgave her. With all his knowledge of the constitution of matter, he
was still young and in the mating mood.

They talked of the flowers, of the trails, of the birds to be found on
the heights for a time; but soon, inevitably, they came to talk of
themselves. Under his questioning she outlined her plans for a musical
education, and this led at last to a consideration of the Reverend Mr.
Clarke.

At the first mention of his name the girl's face distinctly darkened
and her answers became curiously studied, almost evasive--or so it
seemed to Serviss.

"Yes, I play in his church," she said, "and he teaches me. He is a
splendid musician--don't you think so? I owe a great deal to him. He
has helped me so much--especially in my phrasing. He is a wonderful
man. We are fortunate in having him with us."

"He struck me as a little morbid, not to say morose. Has he had
trouble in his church?"

Her answer was deep-toned and affectedly solemn in one so young. "No,
but his wife passed out last year."

"Passed out? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she died."

"Oh, I see!" His inflection checked her confidence, and they rode for
a little way in silence.

Serviss was thinking. The situation is now clear. Clarke is working
upon this sweet and charming girl in order to have her take the place
of his dead wife. A sorrowful thing to think of, but not so bad as I
have been imagining. At length he asked: "What else can you tell me
about this Mr. Clarke? Is he a native of the West?"

"Oh no, he is from the East. He had a big church in Brooklyn; but his
health gave out and he was forced to leave it. He came here for the
baths and the air. He is much better now."

"He retains all his intellectual diseases, however. What medicine will
he find for those?" Meeting the girl's startled glance, he hastened to
add: "I beg your pardon, I was just wondering if he were as morbid
when he came as he now seems."

"Oh