promise her he
never would play upon the two strings whose music had won her heart,
so those strings were mute, except for her."

The old man puffed away in silence for a moment, then with logical
directness continued: "Perhaps the string that's mute upon Diotti's
violin is mute for some such reason."

"Nonsense," said the girl, half impatiently.

"The string is black and glossy as the tresses that fall in tangled
skeins on the shoulders of the dreamy beauties of Tuscany. It may be
an idle fancy, but if that string is not a woven strand from some
woman's crowning glory, then I have no discernment."

"You are jesting, uncle," she replied, but her heart was heavy
already.

"Ask him to play on that string; I'll wager he'll refuse," said the
old man, contemptuously.

"He will not refuse when I ask him, but I will not to-night," answered
the unhappy girl, with forced determination. Then, taking the old
man's hands, she said: "Good-night, I am going to my room; please make
my excuses to Signor Diotti and father," and wearily she ascended the
stairs.

Mr. Wallace and the violinist soon after joined old Sanders, fresh
cigars were lighted and regrets most earnestly expressed by the
violinist for Mildred's "sick headache."

"No need to worry; she will be all right in the morning," said
Sanders, and he and the violinist buttoned their coats tightly about
them, for the night was bitter cold, and together they left the house.

In her bed-chamber Mildred stood looking at the portrait of her lover.
She studied his face long and intently, then crossing the room she
mechanically took a volume from the shelf, and as she opened it her
eyes fell on these lines: "How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer,
son of the Morning!"

* * * * *

Old Sanders builded better than he knew.

XI

When Diotti and old Sanders left the house they walked rapidly down
Fifth Avenue. It was after eleven, and the streets were bare of
pedestrians, but blinking-eyed cabs came up the avenue, looking at a
distance like a trail of Megatheriums, gliding through the darkness.
The piercing wind made the men hasten their steps, the old man by a
semi-rotary motion keeping up with the longer strides and measured
tread of the younger.

When they reached Fourteenth Street, the elder said, "I live but a
block from here," pointing eastward; "what do you say to a hot toddy?
It will warm the cockles of your heart; come