er pleasant words to Mona, assured her that she was gifted with a
remarkable talent for playing, and if she would but make the effort,
the world would bow before her. It was a kindly speech, and charmed as
he was by time, place, and the power of the old love songs she rendered
with such exquisite feeling, he really meant it, little realizing its
effect on her. Now that he did realize it, and could not fail to see
that every word he uttered was considered by her as authoritative, he
wished that he had been more cautious. Then again, he understood her
better and saw what an ardent child of nature she was, and how her heart
and soul vibrated to every pulse of the ocean and the mystic romance of
the wild gorge she sought so often. To him now she seemed like a
veritable nymph of old, or a mermaid, whose soul was attuned to the wild
voice of wind and wave sighing through the rock-walled ravine and the
thicket of spruce above it. For such a creature of moods and fancies to
thrust herself into a merciless world, where sentiment was a jest and
romance an illusion, seemed a sacrilege. And he was to blame for her
wish to do so! Then again, he felt that if the world could but see and
hear her, it must, perforce, crown her with the laurel wreath. True to
his impulsive nature, in this as in all things, he alternated in his own
opinions as to what was best for her.

And so the summer days passed, and Winn, half conscious that she was
learning the sad lesson of love, and yet stifling his conscience with
the feeling that he was only playing the role of big brother, which he
had decided to adopt, allowed the (to him) pleasant pastime to continue.

It may be said that it was unfair for him, a polished man of the world,
and knowing full well that there could be but one result to this
delightful intimacy, to allow it to continue, and yet he did. And it
must also be asserted, that under the same circumstances and like
provocation, few men there are who would not do likewise.

One surprise came to him, however, for he had sent to the city for a
book of instructions on the violin and a supply of new music, only to
find, when he gave them to her, that she was unable to read a note.

"I told you," she said plaintively, "that I knew nothing about music
except what Uncle Jess has taught me, and I wonder how you can think I
play so well. If only I could go away and learn even a little, I should
be so happy."

"Yes," he responded, smiling at her