he kissed and fondled the babe. Then
she sighed. "I feel better now," she said, "much better. Perhaps in a
little while I shall be myself again." Von Barwig handed her a five
dollar bill.

"You will buy the little fellow something with the compliments of a
stranger. What do you call him?" he said quickly, for he saw that his
generous action had brought tears to the girl's eyes and he wanted to
prevent her crying. "He's a fine little chap," he added.

"It's a girl," she said, the ghost of a smile coming into her face.
"Her name is Annie. I'll take this for her sake. Thank you, sir,
thank you!"

"A little girl," he said in his low, gentle voice; "a little girl! I
had a little girl once," and he stifled the sob that came into his
throat. The girl heard this sob and squeezed his hand gently in
sympathy.

"Let me tell you a story, my child, it may help you to bear the burden
of life, as your story has helped me!"

Von Barwig reseated himself by the girl's side and recounted to her the
whole story of his miserable unhappy existence from beginning to end.
This stranger was the only one to whom he had ever told it all. The
girl was intensely interested, and it had the desired effect of taking
her thoughts off her own misery. When Von Barwig took his leave of her
an hour or so later, the colour had come into her waxen cheeks and she
was quietly nursing her baby.

"I have been asleep," he said to himself, "but I am awake now. Life is
all about me; I must not be blind to it again!"

As Von Barwig turned the corner of Houston Street and the Bowery, he
glanced at the clock in the watchmaker's on the corner. It was eleven
o'clock. He did not go to the Museum that night.

"Are you quite sure there is no letter for me, Joles?" Helene asked
anxiously, as she came in late that night.

"Quite sure, miss."

Helene thought a moment. "It's very strange," she said. "I've written
to him so many times."

Joles's face expressed nothing. Helene shook her f head slowly and
walked upstairs. Before she went to bed that night she sent the
following note:

"MY DEAREST BEVERLY: Come to-morrow morning and take me to lunch. I
want you to do a little diplomatic work for me.

"Your loving

"HELENE."

Chapter Twenty-one

Von Barwig now firmly made up his mind that it would never be his good
fortune to see his beloved pupil again. "She has gone out of my life
as suddenly as she came into it," he said wi