ks and departure, as was the
beginning.

Early morning at the Gottesacker, or God's acre, whence little Jimmy had
started on his comfortable journey. Early morning on the frost-covered
grass, the frozen roads, the snap and sparkle of the Donau. Harmony had
taken her problem there, in the early hour before Monia would summon her
to labor--took her problem and found her answer.

The great cemetery was still and deserted. Harmony, none too warmly
clad, walked briskly, a bunch of flowers in oiled paper against the
cold. Already the air carried a hint of spring; there was a feeling of
resurrection and promise. The dead earth felt alive under-foot.

Harmony knelt by the grave and said the little prayer the child had
repeated at night and morning. And, because he had loved it, with some
vague feeling of giving him comfort, she recited the little verse:--

"Ah well! For us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes:
And in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away."

When she looked up Le Grande was standing beside her.

There was no scene, hardly any tears. She had brought out a great bunch
of roses that bore only too clearly the stamp of whence they came. One
of the pickaninnies had carried the box and stood impassively by, gazing
at Harmony.

Le Grande placed her flowers on the grave. They almost covered it, quite
eclipsed Harmony's.

"I come here every morning," she said simply.

She had a cab waiting, and offered to drive Harmony back to the city.
Her quiet almost irritated Harmony, until she had looked once into the
woman's eyes. After that she knew. It was on the drive back, with the
little darky on the box beside the driver, that Harmony got her answer.

Le Grande put a hand over Harmony's.

"I tried to tell you before how good I know you were to him."

"We loved him."

"And I resented it. But Dr. Byrne was right--I was not a fit person
to--to have him."

"It was not that--not only that--"

"Did he ever ask for me? But of course not."

"No, he had no remembrance."

Silence for a moment. The loose windows of the cab clattered.

"I loved him very much when he came," said Le Grande, "although I did
not want him. I had been told I could have a career on the stage. Ah,
my dear, I chose the career--and look at me! What have I? A grave in
the cemetery back there, and on it roses sent me by a man I loathe! If I
could live it over again!"

The answer was very close now:--