more of a
man than I was four years ago. Now, Yanna and I are going to have good
times. She wants to learn music. Very well, she shall learn it. And we
will read and study books that are something above the general run of
school books." He sat down to the thought, let his hand fall upon his
knee, and peered into the future with the proud glance of one who
knows his strength, and foretells his own victory.

In the morning he had a disappointment. Adriana wanted to go to
college. To learn music was not all she desired. There were other
things just as important--repose and dignity of manner, a knowledge of
dress and address and of the ways and laws of society; and these
things could be learned only by personal contact with the initiated.
So she said, "Father, I wish to go to college." And after a short
struggle with his own hopes and longings, Peter answered, "Well, then,
Yanna, you must go to college."

She had been there but little more than two years when she received
the following letter from her father: "Dear Yanna. I took your mother
into New York yesterday. We went to see a famous doctor, and he told
her that she must die; not perhaps for weeks, or even months, but
sentence of death has been passed." Peter did not add a word to this
information. He would not tell Adriana to come home; he wished her to
have the honor of giving herself a command ennobled by so much
self-denial. And as he expected, Adriana answered his letter in
person. Thenceforward, father and daughter walked with the mother to
the outermost shoal of life--yes, till her wide-open eyes, looking
into their eyes at the moment of parting, suddenly became soulless;
and they knew she was no longer with them.

After a few days Peter said, "Yanna, you must go back to college." But
she shook her head resolutely, and answered, "I am all you have. I
will not leave you, father. We can read and study together."

"That would make me very happy, Yanna. And you can have a good music
teacher."

"I do not want a music teacher, father. I used to think I was an
unrecognized Patti; now I know that I have only an ordinary parlor
voice. I measured myself at college by a great many girls; and I found
out I had been thinking too highly of Adriana Van Hoosen. My friend
Rose Filmer--and twenty others beside her--can sing pieces I have not
even the notes for. Rose plays much better than I do. She is cleverer
with her pencil. She always does everything just properly, and I