ery gently, "and drive
away my blues. Play something lively." And the boy god, ever hovering
where hearts are tender, sheathed his arrow and flew away.

Many times afterward Winn thought of that moment and always with regret.

A little longer Mona waited, and then, like an obedient child, drew her
violin from its case.

Our moods are our masters, and be it untutored girl or world-wise man or
woman, they shadow or brighten all expression. And though Mona played at
his bidding one and another of the lively airs she knew, a minor chord
of sadness ran through them all.

Then, to his surprise, she began one of the late light operas he had
sent for and given her weeks before. She did not play it with ease, a
halt came now and then, but she played it all through and then paused.

"I am surprised," he said; "when and how did you learn that? You told me
you could not read a note of music."

"I have been learning to read," she answered quietly, "and Uncle Jess
has helped me."

And then Winn, wishing to encourage her in some way, or at least lead
her thoughts out of their present gloom, uttered a bit of foolish
advice.

"Mona, my dear," he said earnestly, "some day I hope you may have a
chance to study music in the city. If you have, and I would advise it,
you will win a name for yourself."

"Would you come to hear me if I did?" she answered sadly.

"Most assuredly," he said, "and shower you with choicest flowers."

When the lowering sun had left the gorge in shadow, and twilight had
crept into the cave, Mona picked up her violin, and, as if to utter her
own heartache, softly played the old love song Winn had first heard
whispering out of that wild gorge. Watching her and listening thus to
what seemed the quivering of that girl's heart, his eyes grew misty.

"Come, dear," he said, when the sad song ended, "it's time to go home."

And all the way back he held her arm and gently guided her steps among
the rocks.

CHAPTER XXVI

A CLIMAX

When Winn reached his room that evening, a letter from Jack Nickerson
and a clipping from the _Market News_ was awaiting him. The letter said:
"Come at once to the city, but keep shady when you arrive. Go to a hotel
and send for me. Rockhaven is up to ten, the street is all short of it,
and a bear panic may come any day. Have held your stock to unload at top
price. May do it to-morrow, but come anyway."

The clipping was as follows: "As we predicted weeks ago, Rockhaven,