nce to its last guileless page. Had she been
a woman of twenty-five I could not have mistaken her expression of pure
delight and timid interest, but she was only sixteen, as I afterwards
learned, and younger in experience than in age.

Closing the door behind her, she stood for a moment without speaking,
then with a deepening of the blush which was only a child's
embarrassment in the presence of a stranger, looked up and murmured my
name with a word or so of grateful acknowledgment that would have called
forth a smile on my lips if I had not been startled by the sudden change
that passed over her features when she met my eyes. Was it that I showed
my surprise too plainly, or did my admiration manifest itself in my
gaze? an admiration great as it was humble, and which was already of a
nature such as I had never before given to girl or woman. Whatever it
was, she no sooner met my look than she paused, trembled, and started
back with a confused murmur, through which I plainly heard her whisper
in a low distressed tone, "Oh, what have I done!"

"Called a good friend to your side," said I in the frank, brotherly way
I thought most likely to reassure her. "Do not be alarmed, I am only too
happy to meet one who evidently enjoys music so well."

But the hidden chord of womanhood had been struck in the child's soul,
and she could not recover herself. For an instant I thought she would
turn and flee, and struck as I was with remorse at my reckless invasion
of this uncontaminated temple, I could not but admire the spirited
picture she presented as, with form half turned and face bent back, she
stood hesitating on the point of flight.

I did not try to stop her. "She shall follow her own impulse," said I to
myself, but I felt a vague relief that was deeper than I imagined, when
she suddenly relinquished her strained attitude, and advancing a step or
so began to murmur:

"I did not know--I did not realize I was doing what was so very wrong.
Young ladies do not ask gentlemen to come and see them, no matter how
much they desire to make their acquaintance. I see it now; I did not
before. Will you--can you forgive me?"

I smiled; I could not help it. I could have taken her to my heart and
soothed her as I would a child, but the pallor of womanhood, which had
replaced the blush of the child, awed me and made my own words come
hesitatingly.

"Forgive you? You must forgive me! It was as wrong for me," I went on
with a wild idea of