dy may visit an invalid. Think this is a
nursing home, and you're my daily visitor. Falloden's miles away on a
drag-hunt. Ah, that's right!" he cried delightedly, as he saw that she
had seated herself. "Now you shall have some tea!"

She let him provide her, watching him the while with slightly frowning
brows. How ill he looked--how ill! Her heart sank.

"Dear Otto, how are you? You don't seem so well to-day."

"I've been working myself to death. It won't come right--this beastly
_andante_. It's too jerky--it wants _liaison_. And I can't hear it--I
can't hear it!--that's the devilish part of it."

And taking his helpless hand out of the sling in which it had been
resting, he struck it bitterly against the arm of his chair. The tears
came to Connie's eyes.

"Don't!--you'll hurt yourself. It'll be all right--it'll be all right!
You'll hear it in your mind." And bending forward under a sudden
impulse, she took the maimed hand in her two hands--so small and
soft--and lifting it tenderly she put her lips to it.

He looked at her in amazement.

"You do that--for me?"

"Yes. Because you are a great artist--and a brave man!" she said,
gulping. "You are not to despair. Your music is in your soul--your
brain. Other people shall play it for you."

He calmed down.

"At least I am not deaf, like Beethoven," he said, trying to please her.
"That would have been worse. Do you know, last night Falloden and I had
a glorious talk? He was awfully decent. He made me tell him all about
Poland and my people. He never scoffed once. He makes me do what the
doctor says. And last night--when it was freezing cold--he brought
a rug and wrapped it round me. Think of that!"--he looked at
her--half-shamefaced, half-laughing--"_Falloden!_"

Her eyes shone.

"I'm glad!" she said softly. "I'm glad!"

"Yes, but do you know why he's kind--why he's here at all?" he asked her
abruptly.

"What's the good of silly questions?" she said hastily. "Take it as it
comes."

He laughed.

"He does it--I'm going to say it!--yes, I am--and you are not to be
angry--he does it because--simply--he's in love with you!"

Connie flushed again, more deeply, and he, already alarmed by his own
boldness, looked at her nervously.

"You are quite wrong." Her tone was quiet, but decided. "He did it,
first of all, because of what you did for his father--"

"I did nothing!" interposed Radowitz.

She took no notice.

"And secondly"--her voice shook a little-