pha, and begging Jernington to come over during the
summer so that they might work together in quiet. All expenses were to
be paid. Next day he received a telegram from Jernington: "Very
difficult is it absolutely impossible for you to come to England?"

"I'll answer that," said Charmian.

She telegraphed, "Absolutely impossible--HEATH."

In the late evening a second telegram came from Jernington: "Very well
suppose I must come--JERNINGTON."

Charmian laughed as she read it over Claude's shoulder.

"The pathos of it," she said. "Poor old Jernington! He is
horror-stricken. Bury St. Edmunds has been his farthest beat till now
except for his year in Germany. Claudie, he loves the opera or he would
never have consented to come. I felt it was a test. The opera, the
child, has stood it triumphantly. I love old Jernington. And he is a
first-rate critic, isn't he?"

"Of orchestration, certainly."

"That's half the battle in an opera. I feel so happy. Let us have an
audition to-night!"

"All right," he said.

"And play us an act right through; the first act. Alston has only heard
it in bits."

"I don't really care for anyone to hear it yet," Claude said, with
obvious reluctance.

Yet he desired a verdict--of praise. He longed for encouragement. In old
days, when he had composed for himself, he had felt indifferent to that.
But now he was working on something which was planned, which was being
executed, with the intention to strike upon the imagination of a big
public. He was no longer indifferent. He was secretly anxious. He longed
to be told that what he was doing was good.

That evening he was genuinely warmed by the enthusiasm of his wife and
of Alston.

"And surely," he said to himself, "they would be inclined to be more
critical than others, to be hypercritical."

He forgot that in some natures desire creates conviction.

On the last day of Alston's visit Charmian and he understood why
Claude's mathematical powers had been brought to bear on the question of
its exact duration. Claude himself explained with rather a rueful face.

"I hoped--I thought if you were going to stay for the extra days I might
possibly have the finale of the opera finished. Even when you told me
your month meant four weeks I thought I would have a tremendous try to
complete it. Well, I have had a tremendous try. But I've failed. I must
have two more weeks, I believe, before I conquer the monster."

He was looking very pale, had