nceit to convince
myself to the contrary, that I had effected nothing whatever towards
his recovery, that it had accomplished itself without external aid.
But that did not lessen my intense pleasure in the improvement. By
this time I had a most genuine affection for Alresca. The rare
qualities of the man--his serenity, his sense of justice, his
invariable politeness and consideration, the pureness of his soul--had
captured me completely. I was his friend. Perhaps I was his best
friend in the world. The singular circumstances of our coming together
had helped much to strengthen the tie between us. I glanced down at
him, full of my affection for him, and minded to take advantage of the
rights of that affection for once in a way.

"Alresca," I said quietly.

"Well?"

"What was it?"

"What was what?"

I met his gaze.

"What was that thing that you have fought and driven off? What is the
mystery of it? You know--you must know. Tell me."

His eyelids fell.

"Better to leave the past alone," said he. "Granting that I had formed
an idea, I could not put it into proper words. I have tried to do so.
In the expectation of death I wrote down certain matters. But these I
shall now destroy. I am wiser, less morbid. I can perceive that there
are fields of thought of which it is advisable to keep closed the
gates. Do as I do, Carl--forget. Take the credit for my recovery, and
be content with that."

I felt that he was right, and resumed my position near the window,
humming a tune.

"In a week you may put your foot to the ground; you will then no
longer have to be carried about like a parcel." I spoke in a casual
tone.

"Good!" he ejaculated.

"And then our engagement will come to an end, and you will begin to
sing again."

"Ah!" he said contemplatively, after a pause, "sing!"

It seemed as if singing was a different matter.

"Yes," I repeated, "sing. You must throw yourself into that. It will
be the best of all tonics."

"Have I not told you that I should never sing again?"

"Perhaps you have," I replied; "but I don't remember. And even if you
have, as you yourself have just said, you are now wiser, less morbid."

"True!" he murmured. "Yes, I must sing. They want me at Chicago. I
will go, and while there I will spread abroad the fame of Carl
Foster."

He smiled gaily, and then his face became meditative and sad.

"My artistic career has never been far away from tragedy," he said at
length. "It was founded