an effective one--and this
showed that the poor lady did not even know her son.

"Your father left me all his money," she said viciously. "If you are
fool enough to marry this girl, you shall have nothing--nothing!"

It did not seem to have, on the young man, the instantaneous effect
which she had thought it would have. He merely looked at her with a
grieved little frown, and, bending towards her, said with earnest
emphasis: "_That_ wouldn't make the slightest difference. I'm young
and strong. We'll get along somehow--and we shall be together."

"You'll _starve_ together!" she said viciously.

For a moment the two men remained in an embarrassed silence. Young
Vanderlyn, with downcast eyes, was feeling greater mortification than
he ever in his life had known before. Just then the loss of millions
did not matter to him--what really distressed him was that his mother
should make such an exhibition of cold-hearted snobbery before the
father of the girl he loved.

"That wouldn't matter, mother, in the least," he said, at length.
"Money! Do you think it possible that it would sway me? We won't
starve together--quite. I'm strong--I am a man and I can do a man's
work in the world. But you--remember, mother, you will have to take
your choice between receiving Anna--and myself--together--or of being
left alone."

Without another word he left the room--left it with an old man's
dimmed and misty eyes agaze upon him, full of love and admiration.

Mrs. Vanderlyn rose, too, beside herself with shame and grief and
indignation. She turned upon the flute-player.

"Alone!" she cried. "Did you hear that? Oh, the ingratitude, the
selfishness, of children!"

"Madame," said Herr Kreutzer gravely, "do you not think he has a right
to his own life--his happiness?"

"His happiness!" A rasping scorn was in the voice of the unhappy
woman. "Nobody thinks of mine! He is my only son. He knows quite well
that I can't live without him--that I could not give him up!"

Kreutzer smiled--not with an air of triumph--the discomfiture of the
unhappy woman did not make him feel the least exultant. It was pure
happiness that made him smile--joy to think that Anna's wedding would
not, after all, be shadowed by her husband's sorrow for the loss of
mother-love.

"Then Madame will yield?" he cried. "Madame will make the dear young
people happy?"

"Upon one condition. Positively only upon one condition."

"What is that, Madame?"

"Your daughter, r