me, and I met them with a
light heart.

"Nino," said Hedwig, "we have not been nearly grateful enough to
Signor Grandi for all he has done. I have been very selfish," she
said, penitently turning to me.

"Ah no, signora," I replied,--for she was married now, and no longer
"signorina,"--"it is never selfish of such as you to let an old man do
you service. You have made me very happy." And then I embraced Nino,
and Hedwig gave me her hand, which I kissed in the old fashion.

"And so this is your old home, Nino?" said Hedwig presently, looking
about her, and touching the things in the room, as a woman will when
she makes acquaintance with a place she has often heard of. "What a
dear room it is! I wish we could live here!" How very soon a woman
learns that "we" that means so much! It is never forgotten, even when
the love that bred it is dead and cold.

"Yes," I said, for Nino seemed so enraptured, as he watched her, that
he could not speak. "And there is the old piano, with the end on the
boxes because it has no leg, as I dare say Nino has often told you."

"Nino said it was a very good piano," said she.

"And indeed it is," he said, with enthusiasm. "It is out of tune now,
perhaps, but it is the source of all my fortune." He leaned over the
crazy instrument and seemed to caress it.

"Poor old thing!" said Hedwig, compassionately. "I am sure there is
music in it still--the sweet music of the past."

"Yes," said he laughing, "it must be the music of the past, for it
would not stand the 'music of the future,' as they call it, for five
minutes. All the strings would break." Hedwig sat down on the chair
that was in front of it, and her fingers went involuntarily to the
keys, though she is no great musician.

"I can play a little, you know, Nino," she said shyly, and looked up
to his face for a response, not venturing to strike the chords. And it
would have done you good to see how brightly Nino smiled and
encouraged her little offer of music--he, the great artist, in whose
life music was both sword and sceptre. But he knew that she had
greatness also of a different kind, and he loved the small jewels in
his crown as well as the glorious treasures of its larger wealth.

"Play to me, my love," he said, not caring now whether I heard the
sweet words or not. She blushed a little, nevertheless, and glanced at
me; then her fingers strayed over the keys, and drew out music that
was very soft and yet very gay. Suddenly sh