nd I both know the danger;
we know that she is running a terrible risk in marrying you, and that
you yourself are the only person who can save her from shame and sorrow.
For God's sake, Lorimer, do all you can to make yourself live up to the
best that is in you."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Late March found Thayer just completing a long circle. He had gone to
Chicago by way of Washington; he was coming back by way of Canada and
New England. Oratorio societies were rampant, that Lent, and he had been
the popular baritone of the season, completely ousting from public favor
the bass who had monopolized the applause for six or seven years
previous. He had fainted under Elijah's juniper tree times without
number, until he had learned to watch with cynical interest for the
phrase which never failed to draw forth the tears. He had even taken
part in one grand operatic rendition of the work, when the audience had
been half strangled by the too realistic fumes from the altar, and the
chorus, huddled at the back of the stage, had sung the _Rain Chorus_ off
the key, to the accompaniment of the torrent which poured down in a thin
sheet just back of the curtain, raining neither on the just nor on the
unjust, but falling accurately into the groove for the footlights
between them. He had sung _The Messiah_ and _Arminius_ until they were a
weariness to his flesh, and _Hiawatha's_ call to _Gitche Manito, the
Mighty_ had become second nature to his tongue. He had moments of acute
longing to astound his audience with a German student song, and, upon
his off nights, he fell into the vaudeville habit. Not even his
Puritanism could enjoy an unlimited diet of oratorio.

At first there had been some question of his giving a number of recitals
at different points on his journey; but he had renounced the idea. Arlt
was grinding away at counterpoint under the best master to be found in
New York, and Arlt was the only accompanist with whom Thayer cared to
sing. The boy had no notion that Thayer needed him; neither did he have
any idea of the discrepancy between his own payments and the actual fees
of the great musician with whom Thayer had advised him to study. Week by
week, he brought his few dollars, without once suspecting that Thayer's
monthly checks were really paying for the lessons.

Arlt had fallen to work with the eagerness born of long and enforced
abstinence. Certain musical themes had been haunting him for the past
two years; yet he