two ends of a chord. Then
I saw no more the spirit behind her eyes. I saw only the beautiful
face in which the color came and went, the burnished hair so full of
golden lights, on which I longed to lay my hand--the sensitive red
lips--and the angel and the demon rose up within me, and looked one
another in the face, and I heard the one fling the truth at the other,
which even the devil no longer cared to deny--Ah, forgive me!--"

In his egoism of self-analysis and open confession, I am sure he did
not realize how far he was going, until she buried her face in her
hands.

Then he stepped across the room and stood before me as she rested her
face in her hands against my breast.

"It was not especially clever--the last struggle against myself. I had
never known such a woman before. I suppose if I had, I should have
tortured her to death to strike new chords out of her nature,--and
wept at my work! I had not the courage to tear myself abruptly away. I
suggested an hour of the opera--I gave her the public as a
protector--and they sang 'Faust.' It was then that, knowing myself so
well, I looked out into the auditorium and saw you! It was Providence
that put you in my way. I thought it was accident. I am sure I need
say no more?"

I shook my head.

He leaned over her a moment. He gently took her hands from her face.
Her eyelids trembled. For one brief moment she opened her eyes to his.

"You have given me one sweet day," he murmured. "Some part of your
soul has called its music out of mine. That offspring of a miraculous
sympathy will live immortal when all else of our two lives is
forgotten. Remember to-day as a dream--and me as a shadow there--" he
stopped abruptly. I felt her head fall forward. She had swooned.

Together we looked into the beautiful colorless face.

I loved music as I loved light. I was an artist myself. A great
musician--and this man was one--was to me the greatest achievement of
Art and Living.

I did not refuse the hand he held out. I buried mine in it.

I did not smile nor mistrust, nor misunderstand the tears in his eyes,
nor despise him because I knew they would soon enough be dry. I did
not doubt his sincerity when he said, "I have never done so bitter a
thing as say 'good-bye' to this--though I know but too well such are
not for me."

He bent over her, as if he would take her in his arms.

She was unconscious. I felt tempted to put her there. I knew I loved
her as he could never love