but the Master had only laughed at him.
"What!" he had said, "shall I not sometimes lend mine Cremona to mine
son, who like mineself is one great artist? Of a surety!"

Lynn placed the instrument in position, and dreamily, began to play. His
mother was out, and he played as he could not if he had not thought
himself alone. All his heartbreak, all his pain, the white nights and
the dark days went into the adagio, the one thing suited to his mood.

At the first notes, Iris drew a quick, gasping breath. Surely it was not
Lynn! Yet who else should be in his room, playing as no one played but
the great?

Primeval forces held her in their grasp, and all at once her shallowness
fell away from her, leaving her free. The blood surged into her heart
with shame--she had wronged Lynn. She had been so blind, so painfully
sure of herself, so pitifully important in her self-esteem!

The music went on without hindrance or pause. Deep chords and piercing
flights of melody alternated through the theme, yet there was the
undertone of love and night and death. Iris clenched her hands until the
nails cut into her palms. All her life, she seemed to have been playing
with tinsel; now, when it was out of her reach, she had discovered the
gold.

Why should it seem so strange for Lynn to play like this? Had he not
written the letters? Had he not offered her his whole heart--the gift
she had so insultingly thrown aside? Iris knelt beside the chest, in
bitter humiliation.

One thing was certain--she must go away, and quickly. She could not wait
there, trembling and afraid, until someone found her; she must get away,
but how? She was sorely shaken, both in body and soul.

She could not go away, and yet she must. She would go to the station,
and, from there, write to Mrs. Irving and to Lynn. The least she could
do was to ask him to forgive her. Having done that, she would go back to
the city, change her address, and be lost to them forever.

Low, quivering tones came from the Cremona, like the sobs of a woman
whose heart was broken. Suddenly, Iris knew that she belonged to
Lynn--that through love or hate she was bound to him forever. Then, in a
blinding flood came the tears.

Slowly the adagio swept to its end, and yet she could not move. The
music ceased, and yet the silence held her spellbound, vainly praying
for the strength to go away. She heard the click of the lock as the
violin case was closed, the quick step to the door, and the tu